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BY  FLORENCE  M.  KINGSLEY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

BOUT  seventeen  years  before  this 
story  begins,  there  was  great 
mourning  in  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  homes  of  Jerusa- 
lem. In  the  court  of  the  house- 
hold the  servants  were  congre- 
gated about  the  great  central 
fountain,  some  weeping  loudly, 
some  talking  and  gesticulating. 

"  We     shall     never     see     him 
again,"   said   an   elderly   woman, 

wringing  her  hands. 
"  He   was  such  a  darling— so   sweet  and   so 

kind!"   sobbed  an- 
other,    "and    so 

beautiful,  with  his 

lovely     eyes,     and 

those  precious  red 

cheeks." 
"  Oh.  my  David. 

my  David!"  wailed 

a     fourth,     sitting 

flat     upon     the 

ground,    with    her 

head      upon       tho 

edge  of  the   foun- 
tain, and  her  tears 

mingling    with    its 

water  s— "  who 

could      have      the 

heart  to  take  thee 

from  thy  mother!" 
"His       mother 


"  And  Prisca  gone  too;  dost  think  she  stole  the 
little  one?" 

"  Nay,  woman!  Prisca  loved  the  lad  as  her 
own  life;  she  would  never  harm  a  hair  of  his 
head." 

"  I  know  that  she  loved  him,  but  I  fancy  that 
she  loved  the  dark-browed  Greek  better.  Dost 
think  the  Greek  carried  them  both  off?" 

"How  could  he?"  broke  in  another.  "There 
was  no  way,  had  he  been  so  minded." 

"  Thou  knowest  not  everything,"  said  an  old 
woman,  who  had  not  spoken  before.  "  I  have  it 
from  master's  own  body-servant,  Malchus,  that 
the  master  caught  the  Greek  talking  to  Prisca 
in  the  gateway  once,  and  bade  him  begone. 

The  man  answered 
something  in  an 
unknown  tonguo, 
but  with  a  bold 
look  withal;  and 
the  master  gave 
command  to  have 
him  seized  and 
scourged,  which 
was  done  forth- 
with. And  a  heavy 
scourging  it  was 
too,  for  he  was  a 
Gentile.  That  was 
ton  days  since,  and 
now  Prisca  and 
the  little  David 
have  both  disap- 
peared." 
Here  all  tho 


Thou  knowest  not  everything,'^  said  an  old  woman. 


will  die!"  said  the  woman  who  had  spoken  first. 
I  have  it  from  Reba,  her  waiting-woman,  that 
she  hath  gone  from  one  fainting  fit  into  another 
since  she  was  told  the  child  had  been  stolen." 


women  broke  out  afresh  into  loud  wailing  and 
lamenting. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  far  more  painful  scene  was 
passing  in  the  interior  of  the  palace.    The  suia- 


Copyright,  1S94,  by  Dnvid  C.  Cook  Publishing  Co. 


2 


T1TI+-,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


shine  was  filtering  through  the  branches  of  the 
trees,  making  wavering  spots  of  brightness  on 
the  velvet  sward.  Roses,  lilies  and  oleanders 
glowed  in  rich  masses  around  the  basins  of 
marble  fountains.  Birds  singing  sweetly  flitted 
here  and  there.  Yet  everything  seemed  sad  and 
forsaken,  while  the  mistress  of  all  this  beauty 
and  splendor  lay,  white  and  grief-exhausted,  on 
her  couch  in  a  shaded  chamber.  Near  her,  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands,  sat  her  husband. 

"  No,  Anna,"  he  groaned,  "  I  can  get  no  trace 
of  him.  I  have  sent  the  servants  in  every  direc- 
tion; Malchus  hath  searched  the  city  since  early 
dawn;  I  myself  sought  all  aight.  Yet  will  I  find 
him!"  he  continued  fiercely,  springing  up  and 
pacing  the  chamber  hurriedly.  "  It  were  too  hor- 
rible a  thing  to  endure  patiently.  May  the  God 
of  Abraham  witness  that  I  will  be  avenged  of 
this  wrong!  And  yet  who  can  be  my  enemy? 
"NY  ho  would  dare  to  steal  David,  the  only  son  of 
Caiaphas?  'Tis  some  plot  to  make  me  pay 
moneys  for  his  redemption.  Yet  would  I  pay — to 
the  whole  of  my  fortune.  Oh,  my  son,  my  son!" 
And  the  unhappy  father  rent  his  garments,  and 
lifting  up  his  voice  wept  bitterly. 

"  Nay,  my  husband,  do  not  despair,"  spoke  the 
soft  voice  of  Anna.  "  There  is  yet  hope;  he  hath 
only  been  gone  since  yester-eve." 

Yet  as  she  spoke,  the  vision  of  her  three-year- 
old  darling  rose  before  her,  and  she  fancied  him 
wailing  for  his  mother;  perhaps  sick  and  lonely 
in  some  dark  den  of  the  city;  perhaps  dead. 
And  her  courage  failed  her,  and  she  too  wept 
bitterly,  smothering  her  sobs,  woman-like,  lest 
she  add  to  her  husband's  anguish. 

And  so  the  hours,  heavy  with  sorrow,  rolled 
themselves  into  days;  and  no  tidings  of  the  lost 
child.  The  days  became  weeks;  still  no  word  of 
hope.  So  passed  away  months;  and  the  months, 
leaden-footed,  became  in  their  turn  years.  The 
wailing  in  the  servants'  quarters  ceased;  the 
symbols  of  mourning  were  laid  aside;  and  noth- 
ing but  the  anguished  look  in  the  eyes  of  the 
mother  told  of  the  hidden  sorrow— a  sorrow 
more  bitter  than  death. 

No  more  children  came  to  fill  the  house  with 
play  and  laughter;  and  while  the  gentle  Anna 
became  sad  indeed,  and  silent,  Caiaphas,  the 
master,  grew  by  degrees  gloomy,  taciturn  and 
of  a  temper  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Over  the 
home  once  so  gay  and  happy,  lay  a  pall  which 
could  never  be  lifted. 

Once  at  a  feast,  Anna  fancied  that  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  missing  Prisca.  The  woman 
held  by  the  hand  a  boy  of  about  ten  years,  dark- 
eyed,  dark-haired,  and  with  the  color  of  a  ripe 
pomegranate  in  his  lips  and  cheeks.  But  before 
she  could  call  a  servant,  the  two  had  disap- 
peared in  the  crowd,  and  could  never  be  found, 
though  Jerusalem  was  searched  from  wall  to 


wall;  and  outside  the  walls  also,  among  the  pil- 
grims encamped  there. 

"  Perhaps  after  all  it  was  not  Prisca,"  said 
Anna  sadly  to  Caiaphas,  as  they  sat  in  the  gar- 
den at  twilight.  "  I  did  not  see  her  face,  by 
reason  of  her  veil.  But  the  boy!  Oh,  my  hus- 
band, he  was  so  beautiful!"  And  bursting  into 
tears,  she  hid  her  face  on  her  husband's  arm. 

"  Nay,  my  brave  wife,  weep  not.  Am  I  not 
better  to  thee  than  many  sons?"  And  so  he 
strove  to  comfort  her  sore  heart. 

And  again  the  empty  years  rolled  on. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HE  day  was  closing; 
and  night,  doubly  wel- 
come in  an  almost  trop- 
ical climate,  was  close 
at  hand.  Over  the 
waters  of  the  lake 

glowed  a  thousand  tender  colors,  constantly 
shifting  and  melting  the  one  into  the  other- 
gold,  crimson,  rose,  and  rare  purples  in  the  sky 
above,  and  again  in  the  glassy  water  beneath, 
which  reflected  also  the  distant  shores  embow- 
ered in  trees;  while  here  and  there  the  early 
lights  in  a  white-walled  villa,  or  distant  village, 
twinkled  starlike  through  the  dark  masses  of 
foliage. 

The  surface  of  the  water  was  alive  with  craft 
of  various  kinds;  some,  standing  out  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  land  with  white  and  parti-colored 
sails,  seemed  endeavoring  to  catch  the  light 


He  walked  quickly  away. 


breeze,  which  as  yet  scarcely  ruffled  the  surface 
of    the    water;    others,    propelled    by    the  oar, 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


skimmed  lightly  about  nearer  the  shore.  One 
standing  on  the  land  could  catch  melodious 
snatches  of  song  floating  over  the  water,  and 


"Ho,  lad!    Thoii  wert  like  to  pass  thy  night 
outside  the  walls." 
"  And  that  were  no  matter,"  shouted  the  boy 


the  calls  of  the  fishermen  as  they  prepared  to  set  in  return.    "  Many  a  night  have  I  passed  on  the 

forth  for  their  night's  work.    In  truth  it  was  a  lake,  as  thou  knowest;  and  mayhap  I  know  an- 

fair  spot,  this  lake  of  Gennesaret.    And  a  fair  other  way  to  get  in  save  through  thy  gate  here." 

city  was  Capernaum.    Standing  as  it  did  near  And  he  darted  laughing  away,  as  one  of  the  men 

the  head  of  this  miniature  sea,  it  carried  on  a  made  a  motion  as  though  to  seize  him. 


busy   trade    with    its   neighbors.    Ample    ware- 


Dost  know  the  ladV"  said  one  of  the  men 


houses,   with   wharves  and  clustered  shipping,    to  his  comrade,  who  had  joined  in  the  boy's 
occupied    the    water    front;    while   behind    lay    laugh  with  a  low  chuckle. 


the  town  with  its  great 
synagogue,  built  of  white 
and  rose-tinted  marble, 
its  public  buildings, 
squares  and  streets, 
stretching  up  to  the  foot- 
hills of  a  high  range  of 
mountains,  which  swept 
like  an  amphitheatre 
about  the  whole  lake. 

On  this  particular  even- 
ing a  solitary  fisherman 
was  engaged  in  fastening 
his  craft  to  the  bank  of  a 
little  creek,  which  emp- 
tied into  the  lake  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  city. 
The  scene  was  a  familiar 
one  to  him,  and  even  the 
flashing  glories  of  the 
sunset,  now  dying  into  a 
dim  twilight,  scarcely 

awakened  more  than  an  undefined  sense 
of  happiness.  He  was  thinking  chiefly  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  hungry.  Stooping,  he 
hastily  shook  the  rude  fastening  to  see  that  it 
was  secure,  then  took  from  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  his  net,  and  a  number  of  fine  fish,  which 
he  proceeded  to  string  upon  a  twig  plucked  from 
a  convenient  tree. 

As  he  walked  quickly  away,  carrying  his  net 
over  his  shoulder,  the  fish  swinging  from  his 
hand,  he  seemed  rather  more  than  a  boy — a  well- 
grown  lad  of  perhaps  nineteen  years,  well 


"  Yes,  I  know  him.  His 
name  is  Titus— a  bold  fel- 
low. He  dwells  near  to  the 
fish  market  with  his  father 
Dumachus.  They  call  them- 
selves fishers — "  Here  the 
man  stopped  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"  What  meanest  thou?" 
said  the  other  idly. 


The  lad  at  the  gate. 

Bvit  the  gate-keeper  was  fastening  the  huge 
locks— with  much  puffing  and  straining,  and 
many  a  smothered  groan — and  did  not  hear  him; 


built,  strong  and  muscular.  A  skin  browned  by  at  least  he  did  not  answer;  and  his  companion 
exposure,  black  eyes  under  level  black  brows,  presently  forgot  that  he  had  asked  the  question, 
jetty  hair  slightly  curling,  a  nose  curved  like  Meanwhile  the  lad  was  threading  his  way 
the  beak  of  an  eagle,  and  well-cut  lips,  made  up  through  the  narrow  streets,  quite  dark  now  by 
a  countenance  of  unusual  strength  and  beauty,  reason  of  the  lofty  walls  on  either  side.  Occa- 
He  was  clothed  in  a  single  sleeveless  garment  sionally  he  would  come  out  into  a  paved  square 
of  coarse  white  linen  reaching  to  the  knee;  this  or  open  space,  where  numerous  small  booths,* 
was  bound  about  at  the  waist  with  a  sort  of  lighted  by  flaming  torches,  proclaimed  a  market- 
girdle  of  some  scarlet  stuff,  and  from  the  girdle  place.  At  one  of  these  booths  he  paused  a 
depended  a  primitive  kind  of  a  pouch  or  wallet,  moment  and  looked  at  its  wares  which  were  dis- 
Ten  minutes  of  brisk  walking  brought  the  lad  played  in  flat  baskets;  there  were  cakes  made 


to  the  outer  wall  of  the  city,  where  he  found  the 
watchmen  aboxit  to  close  the  gates  for  the  night. 
As  he  passed  hurriedly  through,  one  of  the  men 
called  out: 


with  honey,  dried  figs  and  dates,  small  cheeses 


'Small  sheds  enclosed  on  three  sides,  but  with  the  entire 
front  open  to  the  street  or  market-place.  In  these  all 
kinds  of  goods  are  sold,  as  in  the  stores  of  our  cities. 


2061914 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


of  goafs-milk,  and  various  sweetmeats,  together 
with  nuts  and  fresh  fruits  of  many  kinds.  After 
deliberation,  he  selected  some  delicate  lit- 
tle cakes,  which— wrapped  in  fresh  green  leaves 
by  the  obliging  huckster— he  bestowed  in  his 
wallet,  paying  for  his  purchase  with  a  copper 
coin  taken  from  a  corner  of  the  same  receptacle. 
Then  turning  and  making  his  way  through 
the  crowd  which  nearly  filled  the  square,  he 
plunged  into  a  labyrinth  of  streets,  leading  ap- 
parently into  the  meaner  portion  of  the  city,  for 
the  open  spaces  became  smaller  and  less  fre- 
quent, and  the  walls  lower  and  more  closely 
crowded  together.  Finally  pausing  before  what 
dimly  appeared  as  a  doorway  in  the  rough  wall, 
he  entered,  and  carefully  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  Is  that  you,  mother?"  asked  a  feeble  voice 
from  the  gloom  within. 

"  No,  Stephen  boy;  it  is  I.  Where  is  the 
mother?" 

"  Nay,  I  know  not,"  answered  the  voice  queru- 
lously. "  She  went  to  the  fountain  for  water,  a 
long  time  ago,  it  seemeth  to  me,  and  I  am 
parched  with  thirst  and  so  hungry!  Canst  thou 
bring  me  out  into  the  court,  Titus?" 

"  Aye,  lad,  that  can  I,  and  give  thee  to  drink 
also."  And  laying  his  fish  and  nets  upon  the 
ground,  he  crossed  the  court,  now  plainly  re- 
vealed by  the  moonlight  which  flooded  the 
heavens. 

At  one  side  of  the  little  yard  appeared  a  dark 
opening  from  which  was  looped  back  a  leathern 
curtain.  Stooping  a  little,  Titus  entered,  and  im- 
mediately came  out  again  bearing  in  his  arms  a 
figure,  which  he  tenderly  depositeu  on  a  pile  of 
nets. 

"  There,  Stephen  boy,  see  the  moon,  how  bright 
it  is;  and  here  is  water,  albeit  not  so  fresh  and 
cool  as  the  mother  will  fetch  thee  presently." 
And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  Titus  poured 
out,  from  a  small  skin  bottle  or  gurglet,  water 
into  a  cup,  which  he  handed  to  the  lad  on  the 
nets. 

The  latter  seemed  scarcely  more  than  a  child, 
so  small  and  shrunken  was  his  figure;  and  as  -.ie 
moved  painfully  to  take  the  water,  it  appeared 
that  he  was  cruelly  deformed  and  misshapen. 
But  his  face,  as  the  bright  moonlight  fell  upon 
it,  was,  despite  its  pallor  and  emaciation,  beauti- 
ful, for  the  features  were  delicately  shapen, 
while  the  light  golden  hair,  fine  and  curling, 
made  an  aureole  about  the  brow,  from  beneath 
which  shone  wonderful  dark  eyes. 

"  Truly  the  water  hath  a  foul  taste,  but  it  hath 
wet  my  tongue  and  moistened  my  throat,  ami 
that  is  a  blessing.  lam  glad  that  thou  art  come, 
Titus,  for  now  I  can  go  upon  the  roof.  This  day 
hnth  been  a  heavy  one,  and  my  back  hath  hurt 
uie  cruelly." 


While  the  sick  boy  was  speaking  in  his  weak, 
fretful  voice,  Titus  had  been  busily  engaged  in 
building  a  small  fire;  and  presently  the  fish  hang- 
ing from  a  stick  began  to  splutter  in  the  heat, 
while  an  appetizing  odor  stole  out  upon  the  air. 

"  Cheer  up,  Stephen,  my  lad!"  Titus  was  say- 
ing, as  he  made  his  preparations  for  the  simple 
meal.  "  I  have  a  fine  treat  for  thee  in  my  wallet 
here." 

Stephen's  eyes  brightened,  as  he  lay  quietly 
watching  the  flickering  flames.  "  Is  it  some- 
thing that  I  can  give  to  the  baby?"  he  asked 
presently. 

"  It  will  suit  the  baby  rarely,"  said  Titus, 
laughing.  "  I  had  him  in  mind  when  I  picked 
out  this  particular  dainty  at  the  good  Justin's 
stall.  But  thou  must  not  give  it  all  to  the  baby; 
thou  must  thyself  eat." 

"  Yes,  I  will  eat,"  replied  Stephen  contentedly. 
"  But,  Titus,  I  love  to  see  the  little  one  when  I 
give  him  a  cake.  He  is  sweeter  than  the  sweet- 
est of  Justin's  dainties.  Hark!  I  think  I  hear 
him  now!"  And  raising  himself  on  one  elbow, 
the  lad  listened  intently. 

Titus  likewise  paused  a  moment  in  his  culinary 
operations,  and  the  sound  of  a  baby's  gurgling 
laughter,  and  sweet  broken  talk,  floated  down 
from  a  neighboring  housetop. 

"  Ah,  the  young  rascal!"  said  Titus.  "  He 
waxeth  a  bold  fellow." 

"  Yes,  truly,"  said  Stephen  eagerly.  "  Last 
night  he  clambered  over  the  parapet*  between 
our  two  roofs,  and  came  running  quite  alone  to 
me.  He  loveth  me,"  he  added  in  a  tone  express- 
ive of  deep  conviction. 

"  He  loveth  sweets,  that  is  certain,"  answered 
Titus,  laughing.  "  But  here  is  the  mother  at 
last,"  he  added,  looking  toward  the  doorway. 

A  tall  figure,  heavily  draped,  and  bearing  on 
her  head  a  water-pot,  at  this  moment  entered 
the  courtyard. 

"  Where  hast  thou  been,  mother?"  demanded 
Stephen.  "  Thou  didst  leave  me  at  sunset,  and 
I  had  been  dead  of  thirst  by  this  time,  but  for 
my  Titus,  who  gave  me  a  sorry  draught  indeed, 
— but  better  than  none  at  all — from  the  water- 
skin." 

The  woman  let  down  the  water-pot  hastily, 
and  poured  a  cup  of  water  for  the  child,  saying 
in  a  soothing  tone,  as  she  did  so: 

"  Nay,  thou  shouldst  not  chide  thy  mother, 
child;  'tis  unseemly.  But  the  time  at  the  fount- 
ain did  pass  swiftly  enough,  by  reason  of  the 
marvelous  things  which  1  heard.  There  was  a 
great  crowd  there,  and  I  had  to  wait  my  turn. 
The  good  Jocunda,  our  neighbor,  had  the  tale 
from  her  husband;  he  heard  it  in  the  markt't- 


*A  low  wall,  about  breast-hiph.  built  around  the  edges  of 
the  flat  housetops  to  keep  people  Iroiii  falling  off.  'J  he 
parapet  was  require^  by  law, 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


place.  All  Capernaum  is  ringing  with  the  won- 
der of — ' 

"  Let  us  have  supper  first,"  interrupted  Titus, 
"  for  the  child  is  faint  with  hunger,  and  I  am 
well  nigh  starving.  We  will  have  that  marvel- 
ous tale  of  thine  later." 

So  saying,  he  took  the  fish  from  the  fire,  while 
Prisca— for  such  was  the  woman's  name— hast- 
ened to  bring  the  thin  cakes  of  bread,  which 
served  the  treble  use  of  dishes,  napkins  and  food. 
For  tearing  the  tough,  thin  cake  into  large  frag- 
ments, she  gave  to  each  a  liberal  portion,  while 
Titus  broke  up  and  distributed  the  broiled  fish 
in  the  same  way.  Laying  the  fish  on  the  piece 
of  bread,  each  of  the  humble  party  proceeded  to 
break  bits  alternately  from  the  fish  and  the 
bread,  finishing  by  wiping  their  fingers  upon 
the  bread,  and  tossing  the  fragments  to  the 
family  dog,  which  made  short  work  of  the  clear- 
ing up. 

Titus  ate  heartily,  with  appetite  sharpened  by 
youth  and  long  abstinence,  finishing  his  meal 
with  a  draught  of  water  from  the  jar  which 
stood  close  at  hand. 

"  Now,  Stephen,  lad,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  feel 
like  a  new  man.  Would  that  thou  couldst  eat 
more  than  a  bird;  but  thou  shalt  have  the  cakes 
now." 

"  Nay,  Titus,  carry  me  up  first.  I  will  have 
my  cakes  on  the  roof." 

"  Wait,  lad,  till  I  take  up  thy  bed;  thou'lt  sleep 
better  up  there  in  the  cool  air."  Saying  which, 
Titus  disappeared  again  into  the  dark  interior 
of  the  house,  emerging  presently  therefrom, 
bearing  on  his  shoulder  a  small  roll. 

"  I  will  fetch  thee  when  I  have  spread  down 
thy  rug,"  he  said,  as  he  rapidly  ascended  a 
rude  ladder-like  stairway,  which  led  from  the 
courtyard  up  the  outside  of  the  house  to  the 
roof. 

Down  again  he  came  quickly,  whistling  gayly, 
and  lifting  the  helpless  Stephen  carefully  from 
the  pile  of  nets,  on  which  he  still  lay,  bore  him 
steadily  up  the  stairs  on  to  the  flat  top  of  the 
roof.  Here  in  the  shelter  of  the  rude  parapet 
which  surrounded  the  edge,  he  laid  his  burden 
down  on  the  little  pallet. 

The  boy  drew  a  long  breath,  as  he  gazed  into 
the  glorious  sky,  now  fully  spread  out  above 
him.  The  moon  was  sailing  high  in  the  heavens, 
while  here  and  there  glowed  dimly  certain 
bright  stars,  which  even  the  brilliant  light  from 
the  full  moon  could  not  quench.  A  light  breeze 
from  the  lake  blew  gently  over  the  city.  Behind 
loomed  up  the  dark  masses  of  the  hills. 

"  Ah,  my  Titus!"  sighed  the  boy,  "  I  could  not 
live  were  it  not  for  the  nights.  I  loathe  the 
days,  down  there  behind  that  hateful  curtain, 
with  nothing  to  do,  and  often  no  one  to  talk  to. 
And  when  father  is  here — "  Here  the  boy 


stopped  and  shuddered  slightly.  Then  another 
thought  struck  him.  Raising  himself  on  one 
elbow,  he  called  in  a  gentle  voice,  "  Gogo,  here's 
Stephen!  Gogo!" 

Then  was  heard  a  little  gurgle  of  delighted 
laughter,  and  a  woman's  voice  from  the  adjoin- 
ing roof  said,— 

"  Here  he  is!"  lifting,  as  she  spoke,  over  the 
low  parapet  which  divided  the  two  buildings,  a 


Here  he  is  ! 


small  naked  figure,  which  toddled  unsteadily  on 
two  tiny  dimpled  feet,  to  the  spot  where 
Stephen  was  lying,  watching  his  approach  with 
delighted  smiles. 

"  See,  Titus,  how  well  he  walketh!  The  dar- 
ling! Come  here  to  Stephen,  Gogo;  I  have  some 
cakes  for  thee." 

At  this  magic  word,  the  baby  broke  into  a 
staggering  run,  which  would  have  ended  disas- 
trously had  not  Titus,  who  was  watching  the 
scene,  caught  him  up  and  conveyed  him  with  a 
single  stride  to  the  would-be  haven.  There  he 
nestled  down  beside  Stephen  with  cooing,  unin- 
telligible words,  which  seemed  to  afford  the  lad 
the  greatest  satisfaction. 

"  The  little  beggar!"  said  Titus.  "  He  is  think- 
ing of  cakes  " 

Opening  his  wallet  he  produced  the  dainties  in 
question,  somewhat  damaged  by  the  heat,  it  is 
true,  but  received  with  tokens  of  a  lively  joy  by 
the  two  on  the  rug. 

"  Is  thy  mother  with  thee?"  again  spoke  the 
woman  from  the  adjoining  roof. 

"  Not  yet,  good  neiglrbor,"  said  Titus.  "  But 
she  will  come  soon,  when  she  hath  put  things 
to  rights  below." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  tall  figure  of  Prisca  was 
seen  coming  up  the  stairway. 

"  Good-evening  to  thee,  neighbor,"  she  said, 
spying  the  figure  of  the  other  woman.  "  Come 
over  and  hear  the  tale  which  I  heard  at  the 
fountain  to-night." 

"  Meanest  thou  of  the  wonder-working 
Stranger  who  hath  come  to  our  city?  I  too  have 


TITUS,  A  COMEADF,  OF  THE  CROSS. 


heard  of  Him,"  replied  the  other,  stepping  over 
the  low  boundary  between  the  roofs. 

Then  the  two,  seating  themselves  with  their 
backs  against  the  parapet,  prepared  for  a  com- 
fortable gossip. 


CHAPTER  III.     . 

-HEN  I  went  to  the  fountain  to- 
night at  sunset  to  fetch  water," 
began  Prisca,  "  many  were 
there  before  ,  me,  and  I  was 
forced  to  wait;  so  I  sat  me  down 
on  one  of  the  stone  benches  to 
rest;  for  in  truth  the  heat  to-day 
hath  been  burdensome.  Then  said  one  of  the 
women,  '  And  what  sayest  thou,  good  Prisca,  to 
these  marvels?'  'What  marvels?'  I  answered, 
for  I  had  heard  nothing  of  note.  '  Concerning 
the  Man  from  Judea,'  she  answered.  '  Hast  thou 
not  heard?  Thou  art  a  keeper  at  home  and  there- 
fore to  be  praised;  but  know  that  a  great  worker 
of  miracles,  the  like  of  which  hath  never  before 
been  heard  of  since  the  days  of  the  gods  on 
Parnassus — or,  as  the  Jewish  women  say,  since 
the  days  of  their  Moses,  who  brought  them  out 
of  the  land  of  Egypt.'  " 

"What  is  the  nation  of  the  man?"  interrupted 
the  other  woman. 

"  Said  I  not  that  He  was  a  Jew?"  answered 
Prisca. 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  other.  "  But  that  He  came 
from  Judea." 

"  Well,  now  that  I  bethink  me,"  said  Prisca, 
"  Jocunda  said  that  He  had  always  lived  in  Naz- 
areth near  by;  but  I  had  Judea  in  my  mind,  be- 
cause He  hath  just  come  from  there,  and  at 
Jerusalem  hath  Avorked  many  wonders  of  late." 

"  What  wonders  worked  He  in  Jerusalem, 
mother?"  asked  Stephen,  who  had  hitherto  been 
too  much  occupied  with  the  fascinating  Gogo  to 
pay  much  attention  to  the  conversation  of  the 
women. 

"  Great  miracles  of  healing  wrought  He,"  re- 
plied his  mother.  "  They  do  say  that  He  hath 
opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  healed  sick  folk  of 
all  manner  of  evil  diseases,  and  even  cured  crip- 
ples like  to  thee,  my  poor  Stephen!" 

Stephen  clutched  the  baby,  who  lay  half 
asleep  in  his  arms,  close  in  his  excitement;  but 
he  only  said: 

"  Go  on,  mother;  tell  it  all." 

"  Now,  mother,  believest  thou  this  idle  talk? 
Thou  art  forever  hearing  of  wonders  from  the 
gossips  at  the  fountain,"  said  Titus,  who  had  ob- 
served Stephen's  suppressed  excitement,  and 
guessed  its  cause. 

"  'Tis  not  idle  talk,"  said  Prisca  indignantly. 
"  Knowest  thou  the  worshipful  Asa,  who  lives 
in  the  great  house  near  to  the  lake?" 


"Yes,"  said  Titus  briefly;  "he  serves  Herod 
Antipas."* 

"  Well,"  went  On  Prisca,  "  know,  then,  that 
his  only  son  lay  grievously  ill  of  the  fever;  all 
the  doctors  had  given  him  up  to  die,  and  his 
mother  and  father  were  well  nigh  distracted 
with  grief.  His  father  had  heard  these  idle 
tales,  as  thou  callest  them,  and  he  believed 
them;  insomuch  that  he  set  forth  himself  to  see 
Jesus— for  so  is  the  Nazarene  called— and  meet- 
ing Him  at  Cana,  he  besought  Him  for  his  son. 
The  Nazarene  told  him  to  depart  in  peace,  that 
his  son  would  live.  And,  lo!  as  he  returned,  he 
met  servants  coming  to  meet  him,  who  told  him 
that  the  lad  was  recovering,  and  that  he  began 
to  mend  at  the  very  hour  when  the  Healer 
promised  it  to  his  father." 

"  'Tis  true,"  said  the  other  woman.  "  For  one 
of  the  servants  who  went  to  meet  the  father,  is 
of  kin  to  my  husband;  and  we  had  the  tale  from 
him." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Titus  stubbornly,  "  'tis 
likely  that  he  would  have  recovered  anyway. 
Thou  knowest  that  not  all  die  who  have  fever. 
I  had  it  myself,  and  lived." 

"  Nay,  lad,"  replied  the  woman,  who  was 
called  Adah.  "  But  this  young  man  could  not 
have  lived;  he  had  the  black  spots  on  his  body, 
which  come  only  when  death  is  certain.  Our 
kinsman  helped  care  for  him;  he  saw  it  with  his 
own  eyes.  And  at  an  hour  when  all  thought 
him  breathing  his  last,  he  suddenly  opened  his 
eyes,  and  asked  for  water;  and  when  he  had 
drunken  deeply  of  it,  he  turned  and  slept— slept 
like  my  baby  here— and  wakened  wholly  re- 
stored. 'Tis  a  true  miracle." 

"  It  hath  a  wonderful  sound,"  said  Titus. 
"  What  else  hath  He  done?" 

"  There  was  a  tale  from  Cana  last  year,  which 
my  husband  heard  in  the  market-place,  but  I 
know  not  whether  it  be  true,"  said  Adah 
cautiously.  "  But  'tis  reported  that  at  a  wed- 
ding party  there,  of  one  of  His  own  kinsfolk,  the 
wine^ran  short;  and  when  His  mother  spoke  to 
Him  of  it,  He  caused  them  to  fill  many  great 
water-pots  with  water,  and  at  a  word  changed 
the  water  into  the  best  wine.  The  man  who 
told  my  husband  said  that  he  knew  the  people, 
and  that  they  gave  him  a  gurglet  of  the  wine. 
As  I  say,  I  know  not  whether  this  tale  be 
true;  but  about  the  son  of  Asa,  I  do  know." 

"  How  worketh  He  the  cures?"  asked  Stephen. 

"  Nay,  I  know  not;  'tis  magic,"  replied  the 
woman.  "  They  say  that  He  teacheth  strange 
things  also.  'Tis  whispered  among  the  Jews 
that  He  is  one  of  their  great  prophets  come  to 
life  again." 


*Son  of  Herod  the  Great.    He  reigned  in  Galilee  and 
Perea  at  the  time  of  Christ's  public  ministry. 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


"  Is  He  here  now,  in  this  city?"  asked  Stephen, 
his  voice  trembling  slightly. 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  his  mother.  "  But 
the  women  at  the  fountain  said  that  He  was 
coming." 

"  Do  you  suppose,  mother,"  said  the  boy  in  a 
low  faltering  voice,  "  that  if  He  comes,  He  could 
heal  me?" 

"  Nay,  lad,  think  not  of  it;  'twill  only  bring 
thee  fresh  misery,"  broke  in  Titus  harshly.  "  If 
these  tales  be  true,  'tis  likely  that  He  would  heal 
only  the  rich  and  great,  like  young  Judah,  Asa's 
son;  or  at  any  rate,  being  a  Jew,  He  would  only 
despise  heathen  Greeks,  like  us.  All  the  Jews 
hate  us,"  he  continued,  grinding  his  teeth.  "  One 
spat  on  me  yesterday  when  I  drew  my  net  too 
near  to  him  in  landing.  I  could  have  killed 
him!  Aye,  and  I  will  kill  him,  if  he  dares  to  do 
it  again." 

"  I  hate  the  Jews  too!"  observed  Adah.  "  But 
'tis  certain  that  this  Jew  doth  not  mind  the  rich 
only,  for  of  the  cures  at  Jerusalem  they  say  that 
the  greater  part  were  of  mere  beggars;  and  thou 
knowest  many  of  the  beggars  of  Jerusalem  are 
foreign-born." 

"  When  He  comes,  if  He  doth  come,  my 
Stephen,  I  will  see  Him  for  thee.  There  is  noth- 
ing I  would  not  do,  to  see  thee  well  and  strong, 
my  son,"  exclaimed  Prisca  with  a  passionate  sob. 

"  Hark!"  exclaimed  Titus.  "  I  hear  some 
one  coming!" 

All  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  the  sound  of 
harsh  voices  and  loud  laughter  was  heard  in  the 
street  below.  Then  the  door  of  the  little  court- 
yard was  thrown  wide  open,  and  ten  or  a  dozen 
men  entered  the  enclosure. 

"  'Tis  Dumachus!"  said  Titus  briefly. 

"  I  must  go  home,"  said  Adah,  rising  hastily; 
and  catching  up  her  sleeping  babe  from  his  snug 
resting-place  on  Stephen's  arm,  she  wrapped 
him  in  a  fold  of  her  ample  garment,  and  step- 
ping over  the  parapet,  was  quickly  lost  to  view. 

"  Ho,  Prisca  woman!  Where  art  thou?"  called 
one  of  the  men  from  the  court. 

"  I  am  here,  my  husband,"  meekly  answered 
Prisca,  beginning  to  descend  the  stairway  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Come  along  then.  Get  us  food  and  drink 
quickly;  we  are  famished  and  not  disposed  to 
wait  patiently,"  answered  the  man  roughly. 

"  Keep  thou  quiet  here,"  whispered  Titus  to 
Stephen,  who  had  shrunk  into  a  frightened  heap 
on  his  bed  at  the  first  sound  of  the  man's  voice, 
"  and  I  will  go  and  help  the  mother.  Nay,"— as 
the  lad  held  a  fold  of  his  garment  in  a  nervous 
grasp—"  he  shall  not  touch  thee.  They  will  eat 
and  drink,  then  sleep,  or  go  away  again  for  a 
fresh  carouse  in  the  town.  Let  me  go,  lad." 

Then  he  too,  hurried  down  into  the  yard  be- 
low, leaving  the  trembling  Stephen  alone. 


"  So  thou'rt  here,  boy?"  said  Dumachus,  as  he 
spied  Titus  on  the  stair.  "  Hurry  thy  stupid 
feet,  and  fetch  us  some  wine!" 

Titus  obeyed,  bringing  a  skin  of  wine  and  fill- 
ing the  cups  which  the  men  held  out. 

"  'Tis  a  vile  draught!"  roared  one  of  the  men, 
spitting  on  the  ground. 

"  Thou  hast  the  flavor  of  the  wine-skin  we  took 
yesterday  from  that  portly  merchant  in  Sama- 
ria, still  lurking  in  thy  gullet,"  said  another, 
chuckling. 

"  A  pretty  feiiow  he  was;  and  how  lustily  he 
roared  for  help,  when  we  overhauled  his  belong- 
ings!" 

"  He'll  make  no  more  disturbance  in  those 
parts,  nor  elsewhere,  IU1  warrant!"  growled  an- 
other. 

"  Aye,  we  quieted  him,  as  we  have  many  a 
better  one,"  said  the  man  Dumachus,  with  a 
great  laugh.  "  Titus,  lad,  thou  didst  miss  some 
rare  sport,  when  thou  didst  choose  to  stay  at 
home  from  this  trip  " 

"  Nay,  I  did  not  choose!"  answered  Titus  hotly. 
"I  was  on  the  lake  fishing,  at  thy  command; 
when  I  came  back,  thou  hadst  gone,  I  knew  not 
where." 

"  'Tis  true,  boy,"  answered  Dumachus  good- 
humoredly.  "We  gave  thee  the  slip;  we  had 
business  on  hand  that  thou  shalt  know  anon. 
Thou'rt  quite  a  lad,  and  shalt  have  thy  fill  of 
booty  before  long." 

"  I  care  not  for  the  booty,"  said  Titus,  his 
great  black  eyes  flashing  fiercely,  "  but  I  love 
the  fighting,  especially  when  we  fight  the  Jews." 

This  speech  was  received  with  a  great  burst 
of  laughter  from  all  the  men. 

"  Thou  hast  a  rare  pupil  in  that  boy,"  said  one 
of  them,  nudging  Dumachus. 

At  this  juncture,  Prisca  interrupted  the  con- 
versation with  the  announcement  that  supper 
was  ready.  Immediately  all  fell  to  eating 
ravenously,  and  little  was  heard  in  the  place 
save  the  sound  of  mastication  and  a  hoarse  re- 
quest for  wine  from  one  and  another  of  the 
brutal  group.  Presently  the  edge  of  their  hunger 
being  blunted,  the  wine  began  to  circulate 
freely. 

"  Thou  sayest  that  the  Man  is  here?"  said  one, 
between  great  gulps  from  the  cup. 

"  He  is  here,  and  multitudes  followed  Him 
into  the  city.  To-morrow  we  shall  have  rare 
doings  in  Capernaum." 

"  Rare  doings,  indeed!"  put  in  another.  "  I 
had  it  from  Blastus  himself,  that  at  feast  time, 
when  He  was  in  Jerusalem,  people  ran  out  into 
the  streets  to  see  Him  pass,  and  followed  after 
Him,  leaving  their  doors  wide  open.  No  end  of 
booty  was  secured.  The  people  seemed  stark 
mad." 

"  Let  them  be  mad,"  said  Dumachus  with  a 


8 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OP  THE  CROSS. 


chuckle.  "  The  madder  the  better  for  us.  In 
truth.  I  saw  a  wonder  there,  myself.  A  beggar 
who  has  lain  for  years  near  the  corner  of  the 
market— half  blind,  lame,  and  covered  with 
loathly  sores— when  he  heard  the  Man  was 
coming  his  way,  shrieked  out,  '  Jesus,  thou  son 
of  David!  have  mercy  on  me!'  and  the  Man 
touched  him,  and  lo!  the  beggar  sprang  up  and 
walked." 

"  If  He  doeth  such  wonders  here,"  quoth  an- 
other, "  we  shall  see  the  city  in  an  uproar." 

"  True,  my  Gestas,"  replied  Dumachus.  "  May 
Jove  help  Him!  But  what  think  you  of  the 
Man?  Some  say  He  is  Elias.— though  truth  to 
tell,  I  know  Him  not;  others  say  one  of  the 
prophets  of  the  Jews.  But  no  one  knows  of  a 
certainty.  He  hath  followers  enough  to  raise  an 
insiirrection  already." 

"  Let  it  come,  say  I!"  shouted  another.  "  Wai- 
will  break  up  the  rule  of  these  Romans:  dost  re- 
member how  they  caught  and  crucified  some  of 
our  best  men  last  year?  I  hate  the  law!" 

This  sentiment  caused  a  wild  cheer,  which 
Dumachus  sternly  repressed. 

"  Fools!"  he  said.  "  If  we  be  caught  here,  we 
are  like  rats  in  a  trap!" 

It  was  now  close  upon  midnight;  and  grad- 
ually the  talk  died  away,  as  one  after  another 
fell  off  to  sleep,  announcing  the  fact  with  loud 
snores. 

About  one  o'clock,  Prisca  crept  wearily  up  the 
little  stairway  to  the  roof,  where  she  found 
Stephen  wide  awake,  his  eyes  shining  like  stars. 

"  Oh,  mother!"  he  whispered,  "  I  heard  what 
they  said  about  Him.  He  is  here!" 

"  Yes,  my  Stephen,  He  is  here,  and  thou  shalt 
see  Him."  Then  bidding  the  child  sleep,  she  lay 
down  near  him,  and  composed  herself  also. 

But  long  after  Stephen's  regular  breathing 
told  the  mother  that  her  darling  slept,  she  lay 
open-eyed,  thinking  of  the  time  when  he  was 
strong  and  beautiful,  and  of  the  awful  blow  on 
his  delicate  spine  which  had  made  him  the 
shapeless  cripple  that  he  was.  And  in  her  heart 
she  hated  the  brute  called  Dumachus. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HE  next  morning 
Stephen  awoke  to 
fi  n  d  himself  in 
the  room  behind 
the  hated  leath- 
ern curtain.  He 
slept  heavily  and 
and  as  he  rubbed 
eyes  sleepily,  and 
looked  about  him,  in  the  semi-darkness,  he  be- 
came aware  that  he  was  alone. 


"  Father  and  the  men  are  gone,  and  I  am 
glad,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Titus  is  fishing— at 
least,  I  hope  he  is — and  mother  is  at  the  foun- 
tain." 

The  room  in  which  he  lay,  was  very  much  like 
those  of  the  humbler  sort  in  the  East  to-day. 
It  wras,  in  fact,  the  house — there  being  only  the 
one  apartment.  The  walls  of  rough  stone,  plas- 
tered with  clay,  were  windowless,  and  over  the 
one  door  hung  the  aforementioned  flap  of 
leather.  This  was  torn  in  several  places,  and 
admitted  here  and  there  two  or  three  dazzling 
sunbeams,  which  afforded  Stephen  some  faint 
satisfaction,  for  by  means  of  them  he  could 
guess  a  little  at  the  time,  which  at  best  dragged 
heavily  enough.  When  the  yellow  shafts  of  light 
rested  on  the  wall  opposite  the  door,  lighting  up 
the  shapeless  smoke-blackened  wine-skins  which 
hung  there,  then  it  was  three  hours  before  noon. 
As  the  sun  climbed  higher  in  the  heavens,  the 
sunbeams  descended  from  the  wall,  and  lay 
upon  the  floor— yellow  pools  of  light,  and  cheer- 
ful to  behold,  though  they  rested  upon  a 
wretched  floor  of  dried  mud.  When  they  disap- 
peared towards  noon,  Stephen  felt  a  daily  sense 
of  loss,  which  nevertheless  always  gave  way  to 
a  lively  satisfaction,  when  he  reflected  that 
presently  night  would  come.  Night  brought 
Titus,  and  the  long  cool  hours  on  the  house-top, 
and  best  of  all  an  hour  of  play  with  Gogo. 

He  fell  to  thinking  of  Gogo  now,  as  he  lay  idly 
watching  the  motes  which  danced  in  the  yellow 
shaft  of  sunlight.  How  smooth  and  dimpled  his 
little  hands  were — like  rose  leaves,  Stephen 
thought;  how  straight  and  strong  and  rounded 
his  little  limbs.  And  then  his  beautiful  eyes— 
golden-brown,  with  such  long,  curling  lashes, 
and  the  rings  of  golden  hair,  half  covering 
the  tiny  pink  ears.  And  was  not  his  voice 
sweeter  than  any  bird's,  and  his  teeth  like  little 
pearls! 

"  Nay,"  said  Stephen  aloud,  as  he  finished 
cataloguing  these  varied  charms,  "  there  is  no 
baby  in  the  world  like  Gogo!" 

At  this  point  in  his  meditations  some  one 
raised  the  leathern  flap  and  entered  the  room. 
It  was  Prisca. 

"  Hast  thou  fetched  the  water,  mother?"  said 
Stephen,  half  raising  himself. 

"  Nay,  child,  I  have  not  been  to  the  fountain 
yet."  And  turning  her  back  hastily,  Prisca 
made  a  suspicious  sound  as  if  she  were  choking 
down  a  son. 

"  What  ails  thee,  mother"3"  queried  Stephen, 
too  much  accustomed  to  see  his  mother  in  tears, 
to  be  especially  alarmed.  "  Hath  father  been 
beating  thee  again?" 

"  No,  no,  child!  Father  and  all  the  rest  went 
away  before  daybreak,  and  Titus  with  them. 
It  is  not  that;  but  oh,  how  can  I  tell  thee!"  And 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


9 


here  Prisca  broke  down  completely  and  sobbed 
aloud. 

"What  is  it?  Do  tell  me,  mother!"  said 
Stephen,  now  thoroughly  frightened. 

"  Well— I  suppose  I  must  tell  thee,"  said  Prisca 
reluctantly.  "  But  I  fain  would  spare  thee,  my 
poor  boy,  thou  hast  so  much  to  bear.  Our  neigh- 
bor came  early  this  morning  to  call  me — tha 
baby—"  And  here  the  woman  wept  again,  cov- 
ering her  eyes  with  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out 
v  ome  painful  sight. 

"  The  baby!"  exclaimed  Stephen  in  an  agony 
of  impatience.  "  Oh.  tell  me.  is  he  dead?" 

"  No,  no!  I  only  wish  that  he  was,  for  then  ho 
were  out  of  his  pain. 
This  morning,  Adah 
told  me,  she  wakened 
suddenly— s  he  was 
sleeping  on  the  roof 
and  the  baby  with  her 
—by  the  sound  of  a 
heavy  fall  in  the  court- 
yard below;  in  a  mo- 
ment she  saw  that  the 
baby  was  gone,  and 
running  to  the  edge  of 
the  parapet,  she  saw—" 
and  again  Prisca  cov- 
ered her  eyes  with  her 
hands.  "  Yes,"  she 
went  on,  in  a  broken 
voice,  "  the  little  fel- 
low had  wakened  up 
early,  as  all  babies  do, 
and  had  crawled  to  the 
edge  of  the  roof;  in 

one  place  the  ledge  is  broken  away  and  he  had 
fallen  on  to  the  stones  below.  He  is  frightfully 
hurt.  He  cannot  live  the  day  out.  Thank  the 
gods  for  that!  But  I  must  go  back  and  stay 
with  her,  though  'tis  little  I  can  do  to  help." 

Stephen  had  heard  this  frightful  tale  in 
silence.  But  now  as  his  mother  looked  at  him, 
she  saw  that  his  face  was  white  and  drawn. 

"  I  cannot  bear  it,  mother!"  he  gasped  huskily. 

His  mother  was  frightened  by  his  look  and 
words.  "Oh,  Stephen!"  she  cried,  •"  thou'lt 
break  my  heart!  Thou  art  my  baby  and  all  I 
have!  Thou  must  bear  it,  lad.  "for  my  sake.  I 
will  not  go  back;  I  will  stay  with  thee." 

"No,  no'"  wailed  Stephen,  "go  back;  thou 
mightest  do  something  to  ease  him.  Go  quickly!" 

Prisca  hastily  placed  some  bread  and  dried 
fruit,  with  a  small  gurglet  of  water,  near  the 
lad,  and  went  quickly  away,  saying,  as  she  left 
the  room: 

"  I  will  come  back  soon,  if  there  be  a  change." 

For   a    few    moments   after    she   bad    gone, 
Stephen  lay  as  If  stunned.    His  baby!    His  Gogo 
and    bleeding!    Cpiild    he    never    s«s 


him  again?  Oh,  those  little  hands!— never  again 
would  he  feel  them  like  rose-leaves  on  his 
cheek!  Those  little  feet — never  to  walk  again! 

"  I  cannot  bear  it!"  he  cried,  and  again  and 
again,  "  I  cannot  bear  it!" 

Presently  into  his  brain,  half-crazed  with  suf- 
fering, flashed  the  remembrance  of  the  Nazar- 
ene.  "  He  is  here— not  far  away.  He  could  heal 
him.  Oh,  if  mother  would  only  come  back!  She 
could  tind  Him.  But  she  is  not  here!  She  will 
not  come!  Perhaps  he  is  dying  even  now!  If 
only  I  could  walk!  I  can  crawl — a  little.  I  will 
try  I  must  try  I  must  do  something  to  help! 
Oh,  my  Gogo!  My  Gogo!" 


Ruins  of  Tel-Hum,  site  of  Capernaum. 


The  boy  had  taken  a  desperate  resolution.  It 
was  true  that  he  could  crawl  a  little;  but  of  late 
the  exertion  had  caused  such  an  aggravation 
of  his  malady,  that  his  mother  had  forbidden  it. 

Slowly  he  let  himself  down  from  the  raised 
platform — which  occupied  one  end  of  the  room, 
and  on  which  the  family  slept — to  the  earthen 
floor  beneath,  every  movement  causing  the  most 
exquisite  anguish  in  his  injured  back;  but  he 
persevered,  and  at  length  reached  the  door. 
Then  came  the  painful  journey  across  the  court- 
yard. Suppose  that  he  could  not  open  the  door 
that  led  to  the  street!  It  was  a  terrible  thought. 
Great  drops  started  out  on  the  boy's  fore- 
head. 

A  few  feet  more  and  the  door  was  reached.  It 
was  unlatched.  Prisca  in  her  sorrowful  haste, 
had  forgotten  to  close  it  after  her.  Stephen 
pushed  it  boldly  open,  and  in  another  moment 
was  in  the  street.  Here  he  paused  to  reflect;  at 
the  end  of  the  street  was  a  hiarket-place. 

"  I  must  go  there("  he  thought.  "  I  must  find 
Him  before  long,  or  It  will  be  too  late," 

The  street  la  which  h«  lay  wa»  »e  narrow,  that 


10 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


one  standing  in  the  middle  of  it,  could  touch  the 
walls  on  either  side.  There  were  no  windows. 
No  one  was  visible.  Which  way  was  the 
market?  He  did  not  know.  It  must  be  toward 
the  lake. 

"  I  will  go  this  way,"  he  said  aloud,  and  nerv- 
ing himself  for  the  effort,  he  crept  painfully 
down  the  street.  The  stifling  yellow  dust  almost 
strangled  him;  the  small,  flinty  stones  cut  his 
limbs,  and  the  sun  beat  down  fiercely  on  his 
uncovered  head. 

Presently  he  stopped.  His  heart  beat  thick 
and  painfully;  black  spots  floated  before  his 
eyes;  but  he  could  see  that  the  market-place  was 
not  far  off.  Already  he  could  catch  the  hum  of 
voices — or  was  it  but  the  roaring  in  his  ears? 
Another  effort— an  agonizing  one  this  time— ancl 
the  lad  found  himself  at  the  corner  of  the  street. 
He  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  market-place. 
There  were  the  booths  with  many  things— prin- 
cipally fish — spread  out  thereon,  just  as  he  re- 
membered it  when  Titus  had  once  carried  him 
to  see  it,  a  long  time  ago.  There  were  many 
people  there,  buying  and  selling,  but  no  one  who 
looked  like  the  wonderful  Nazarene.  No  one 
noticed  the  poor  little  figure,  lying  there  in  the 
dust.  One  man,  it  is  true,  nearly  stepped  on 
him,  as  he  hurried  along  with  a  huge  basket  of 
fish  on  his  head;  but  he  only  muttered  something 
in  an  angry  tone  about  beggar  brats,  and  passed 
on. 

Stephen's  misery  increased  with  every  pass- 
ing moment.  The  pain  in  his  back  was  well  nigli 
unbearable;  he  was  burning  up  with  thirst,  and 
faint  with  hunger.  Still  he  strained  his  gaze 
eagerly  after  every  passer-by,  with  a  hope  which 
ever  grew  dimmer.  Presently,  he  saw  with  ter- 
ror that  two  or  three  of  the  fierce,  half -wild 
dogs  of  the  town*  were  sniffing  about  him.  He 
shrieked  aloud,  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his 
arm,  screamed  frantically: 

"  Mother!    Mother!" 

In  the  midst  of  his  agony,  he  became  aware 
that  some  one  was  speaking  to  him.  He  looked 
up,  and  saw,  standing  between  him  and  the 
blinding  glare  of  the  sun,  a  Man.  To  Stephen, 
lying  prone  in  the  dust,  He  looked  very  tall. 
This  the  boy  saw;  yet  it  was  something  else 
which  hushed  his  sobs,  and  caused  him  to  look 
upon  this  Man  with  breathless  awe — that  face 
of  mysterious  beauty;  those  wonderful  eyes- 
deep,  tender,  unfathomable.  It  could  be  no 
other  than  Jesus!  Gogo  was  saved! 

With  a  cry  of  joy;  Stephen  raised  himself,  and 
with  hands  clasped  atid  eyes  still  fastened  on 
the  Stranger)  half  whispered: 


"  Thou  art  Jesus— He  that  healeth!  I  know  it! 
Thou  canst  save  my  baby!  He  fell  from  the 
roof  and  is  crushed  and  dying." 

A  beautiful  smile  dawned  in  the  Stranger's 
eyes,  and  lifting  His  face  towards  heaven,  He 
said: 

"  I  thank  thee,  O  my  Father,  that  thou  hast 
hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent, 
and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes."  Then 
looking  again  upon  Stephen  with  a  tender,  com- 
passionate gaze,  which  comprehended  all  his 
weakness  and  deformity,  He  laid  His  hand 
gently  on  the  boy's  head. 

"  According  to  thy  faith,  be  it  unto  thee.  Go 
in  peace." 

And,  lo!  under  that  blessed  touch  the  boy  felt 
all  weariness,  all  pain,  all  weakness,  pass  away; 
and  w;th  a  cry  of  exceeding  great  joy,  he  arose 
from  the  grmmd  perfectly  healed. 

"  Blessed."  iiidet-d,  "  ate  the  merciful;  for  they 

shall  obtain 
mercy." 


eine-Hshing. 


•Dogs  of  KaBtorrt  cities  were  of  a  seml-wtlrtspcidos,  more 
wolf  than  dog,  which  prowled  about  the  utreets  half 
starved,  and  somettm.es  BO  savage  and  hungry  as  to  attack 
oae  not  able  to  protect  himself  against  them. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HE  short  sum- 
mer night  was 
almost  past. 
The  moon  had 
set  an  hour 
ago;  the  stars 
were  melting 
away  into  dim- 
ness; while  in 
the  east  a  faint, 
rosy  glimmer 
showed  that 
dawn  was  at 
hand.  Over  the 
surface  of  the 

water  a  coo'  wind  was  blowing,  which  caused 
two  fishing-boats  well  out  from  the  land  to  roll 
heavily.  The  occupants  of  one  of  these  boats 
were  busily  engaged  in  hauling  in,  and  examin- 
ing, their  fishing  nets;  yard  after  yard  of  the 
net  came  in  dripping  and  glittering,  with  but 
here  and  there  a  little  fish  caught  in  the  meshes. 
"  We  may  as  well  stop  for  to-night,"  exclaimed 
one  of  the  men  impatiently,  throwing  the  last 
fish  o.verboard. 

"  I  told  thee,"  said  his  companion,  "  that  with 
the  wind  in  this  quarter  we  might  as  well  bide 
at  home.  Hail  the  other  boat,  Simon.  It  may 
be  that  they  have  something.*' 

The  last  yard  of  the  net  having  been  hauled  In 
by  this  time,  Slmptt  stood  up  in  the  bow  of  the 
boat  and  called,  making  a  trumpet  of  his  two 
hands.  Presently  came  back  a  faint  answer. 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


11 


"  Hast  caught  anything?"  shouted  Simon,  with 
all  the  strength  of  his  strong  lungs. 

"  No,"  came  back  in  reply. 

"  'Tis  as  I  said,"  observed  the  other,  who  was 
named  Andrew.  "  Let  us  hoist  sail  and  make 
for  home.  We  can  cast  again  in  the  bay  near 
the  city;  we  sometimes  get  a  good  haul  there, 
when  not  a  fin  is  to  be  seen  anywhere  else." 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  the  anchor 
was  hauled  aboard,  and  the  great  wing-like  sail 
raised.  As  it  caught  the  fresh  breeze,  and  the 
somewhat  clumsy  craft  began  to  move  smoothly 
through  the  water,  the  two  sat  down  in  the 
stern,  Simon  grasping  the  tiller. 

"  Canst  see  what  the  others  are  doing, 
Andrew?"  he  inquired. 

"  They  are  raising  their  sail,"  he  answered. 

"  They  have  had  enough  also,"  said  Simon,  in 
a  somewhat  absent  tone.  Then  he  continued: 
"  Dost  know  what  has  been  in  my  mind  as  we 
toiled  in  the  night?" 

"  How  could  I?"  replied  Andrew.  "  Thou  hast 
hardly  spoken,  and  that  were  a  marvel  for  thee, 
who  art  somewhat  free  of  speech." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  the  Nazarene  all  the 
night  through,"  said  Simon.  "  I  care  not  for  the 
fishing  now,  whether  our  catch  be  good  or  bad; 
I  would  fain  be  with  Him.  Hast  thou  thought 
of  the  marvel  of  it  all?  Perchance  we  have 
lighted  on  strange  times;  perhaps  it  were 
best  that  we  give  up  the  fishing  for  good  and 
all." 

"  Give  up  the  fishing!"  quoth  Andrew  in  sur- 
prise. "  How  can  we  do  that?" 

"  Why,"  replied  the  other,  "  we  have  enough 
and  to  spare;  the  vineyard  beareth  well  now, 
and  the  women  are  frugal.  We  do. not  need  the 
money.  If  we  give  up  the  fishing,  we  could  be 
with  Him  all  the  while." 

"  But,  brother,"  said  Andrew,  "  doth  He  want 
us?" 

"  Nay,  I  know  not.  But  I  think  that  He  need- 
eth  some  one.  Knowest  thou  not  that  there  be 
whispers  against  Him  of  late?  He  is  not  of  the 
Pharisees*  nor  yet  of  the  Scribes.**  And  in 
truth,  He  doth  strangely  set  aside  many  of  their 
laws  and  customs." 

"  I  know,"  said  Andrew  solemnly,  "  what  John 
said  of  Him.  He  said  it  twice  in  my  hearing 
before  the  baptism  in  the  Jordan,  and  again 
afterward;  'twas  this:  'Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God.'  John  believeth  Him  to  be  the  Christ. 
Perhaps  thou  art  right,  Simon,  about  the  fish- 


*A  famous  sect  or  religious  body  of  the  Jews;  very  strict 
in  observances  of  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Law.  They 
took  great  pride  ID  making  a  show  of  their  religion,  while 
of  tea  leading  very  sinful  lives  in  private. 

**A  name  first  riven  to  thoie  whose  business  It  wan  to 
write,  Uned  In  the  New  Testament,  it  means  one  skilled 
In  Jewish  Law!  an  interpreter  of  tha  Law;  a  lawyer,  The 
BcrtDe«  had  great  influence  with  the  people. 


ing.  If  what  John  Baptist  saith  be  true,  and 
He  is  indeed  the  Christ,  we  ought  to  be  with 
Him  where  He  is.  And  now  John  lieth  in 
prison,  and  we  cannot  tell  what  may  befall  him 
there.  May  Jehovah  grant  that  Herod  cast  not 
his  evil  eye  upon  the  Master." 

"  Amen!"  said  Simon  fervently. 

After  this  a  little  silence  fell  between  the  two, 
broken  only  by  the  sound  of  the  green  water  as 
it  swirled  away  behind  the  rudder  in  a  long 
frothy  wake.  The  dawn  was  brightening  mo- 
mently now,  and  all  the  solemn  pomp  of  sun- 
rise beginning  behind  the  great  blue  hills  on 
the  eastern  horizon.  Before  them,  seen  dimly 


The  Sea  of  Galilee. 

through  the  morning  mists,  rose  the  towers  and 
walls  of  fair  Capernaum. 

As  the  boats  drew  near  the  shore,  it  could  be 
seen  that  many  people  were  congregated  there, 
some  sitting  on  the  rocks,  others  walking  about 
— not  an  unusual  sight,  for  it  was  the  wont  of 
all  to  rise  early  so  that  business  might  be  well 
over  before  the  heat  of  the  day  began.  Still 
there  seemed  to  be  something  more  than  the  in- 
coming fishing  boats  to  attract  so  many. 

"  Seest  thou  yonder  crowd?  What  dost  thou 
make  of  it?"  asked  Andrew. 

Simon  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  he  an- 
swered eagerly,  "  'Tis  He,  the  Master;  and  the 
people  throng  Him  to  hear  Him  speak.  Let  us 
make  haste!"  And  being  now  quite  close  to  the 
shore,  he  sprang  into  the  water,  and  pulling  the 
boat  after  him,  quickly  made  it  fast,  Andrew 
following  him  more  slowly. 

Meanwhile  the  other  boat,  not  far  behind,  and 
also  light  because  of  its  emptiness,  had  been 
drawn  upj  and  the  men  in  it,  dragging  their  nets 
behind  them,  came  also  to  the  shore. 

When  Jesus  saw  Simon,  and  Andrew,  and  the 
other's,  and  their  boats  empty,  after  all  the 
night's  toll,  He  entered  Into  one  of  the  ships, 
which  was  Simon's,  and  prayed  him  that  he 


12 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


would  thrust  out  a  little  from  the  land.  Then 
He  sat  down  and  taught  the  people  out  of  the 
ship. 

We  may  not  know  what  He  said  that  summer 
morning,  so  long  ago;  but  we  know  that  II j 
spoke  of  the  things  of  God.  And  as  He  sat 
there  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  sail,  His  voice 
sounding  clear  and  sweet,  across  the  little  space 
of  water  which  separated  kj»ti  from  His  henr- 
ers,  healing  fell  on  many  a  bleeding  heart;  chil- 
dren stretched  out  their  tiny  hands  towards 
Him;  and  love,  stronger  than  death  itself,  sprang 
up  beautiful  and  mighty,  in  many  a  soul. 

Among  those  who  stood  on  the  very  water's 
edge,  were  two  women,  one  bearing  in  her  arms 
a  rosy  babe;  with  them  was  a  lad  of  about  four- 
teen, with  light  golden  hair,  and  great  dark 
eyes.  When  Jesus  had  ended  His  speaking,  this 
lad  clasped  His  hands,  and  looking  at  Him  v.-lth 
a  face  like  that  of  an  angel,  murmured: 

"  Thou  that  healest,  I  love  thee!    I  love  thee!" 

It  was  Stephen. 

Now  when  the  Master  had  done  speaking  to 
the  people,  He  turned  to  Simon,  who,  with 
Andrew,  was  with  Him  in  the  boat,  and  said: 
"  Launch  out  now  into  the  deep,  and  let  down 
your  nets  for  a  draught." 

"  And  Simon  answering  said  unto  Him,  Mas- 
ter, we  have  toiled  all  the  night,  and  have  taken 
nothing;  nevertheless  at  thy  word  I  will  let 
down  the  net.  And  when  they  had  this  done, 
they  enclosed  a  great  multitude  of  fishes,  so  that 
their  net  brake.  And  they  beckoned  to  their 
partners  which  were  in  the  other  ship,  that  they 
should  come  and  help  them.  And  they  came, 
and  filled  both  the  ships,  so  that  they  began  to 
sink.  When  Simon  Peter  saw  it.  he  fell  down 
at  Jesus'  knees,  saying,  Depart  from  me!  for  I 
am  a  sinful  man,  O  Lord!  For  he  was  aston- 
ished, and  all  they  that  were  with  him,  at  the 
draught  of  the  fishes  which  they  had  taken. 
And  Jesus  said  unto  Simon,  Fear  not;  from 
henceforth  thou  shalt  catch  men.  And  when 
they  had  brought  their  ships  to  land,  they  for- 
sook all  and  followed  Him." 

Night  acrain;  and  with  it  peace.  Far  below 
the  solitary  Watcher  on  the  heights,  lay  the  city, 
twinkling  with  Sabbath  lights.  At  sunset,  the 
mellow  notes  of  the  trumpet,  from  the  roof  of 
the  synagogue,  had  announced  the  day  of  rest. 
Toil  was  over  for  a  brief  space;  the  peasants 
had  ceased  their  labor  in  the  fields;  the  shops 
and  booths  were  closed;  the  fishing-boats  lay 
idle  at  the  wharves. 

Hours  passed  on.  The  city  slept.  Still  the 
solitary  figure  paced  back  and  forth  tirelessly, 
lifting  His  face  to  the  heavens.  Below  Him  the 
world,  full  of  sin,  full  of  misery,  full  of  ignor- 
e.  Abore  bim,  God.  B«— tb«  link  between. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Jewish  Synagogue. 


HE  reader 
had  finished 
droning  out 
the  eighteen 
p  r  a  y  e  rs.  * 
The  men  on 
their  side  of 
the  syna- 
gogue had  listened  with  reverent  attention,  ati'.l 
responded  wth  devout  amens.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  lattice,**  however,  where  the  women 
and  children  sat,  there  was  a  subdued 
rustling.  The  place  was  very  full;  some  were 
standing,  and  others  crouched  along  the  wall. 
To  many  who  were  present  the  prayers  and 
psalms  had  a  strange  sound;  they  had  never 
been  in  the  synagogue  before,  though  they  had 
often  seen  it.  and  admired  the  beautiful  rose- 
colored  and  white  marble  of  which  it  was  built. 
But  all  who  could  crowd  into  the  place  had  come 
to-day;  for  it  had  been  noised  abroad  that  the 
great  Worker  of  miracles  would  be  there,  and 
curiosity  to  see  Him,  and  the  hope  that  He 
might  perform  some  new  wonder,  had  brought 
many  unaccustomed  worshipers. 

The  Jewish  women  glanced  askance  at  the 
foreign  women,  who.  with  their  little  ones  cling- 
ing to  their  skirts,  had  crowded  into  the  best 
places  for  seeing. 

"  The  ungodly  ones!"  whispered  one  to  her 
neighbor.  "  Why  are  they  here?  If  this  Man 
be  indeed  the  Messiah,  He  is  not  for  them." 

And  now  all  the  prayers  had  been  recited,  the 
lessons  from  both  the  Law  and  the  Prophets 
read,  and  in  the  breathless  hush  of  expectancy 
which  followed,  the  great  Healer  came  forward 
—the  reader,  following  the  custom,  having  asked 
Him  to  speak  to  the  people.  Fvery  eye  was  fast- 
ened upon  Him,  and  as  He  spoke  words  of  au 
thority,  of  divine  and  burning  truth,  the  light  of 
heaven  which  shone  upon  His  face  penetrated 
the  dark  hearts  in  His  presence.  All  were  in- 
tent, silent,  drinking  in  His  words,  so  different 
from  the  vague  and  stupid  utterances  of  the 
Rabbis.  Even  the  children,  though  they  under- 
stood not  the  words,  felt  the  wonderful  fascina- 

*The  service  of  the  synagogue  opened  with  eighteen 
prayers  or  blessings,  the  people  rising  from  their  seats  and 
standing  during  the  reading. 

**!D  the  synapoguo  the  man  »n4  wops"*  «at  apart,  »nd 
*«r«  »ej>ar»te4  p 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


13 


tion  of  that  heart  of  love,  and  gazed  quietly  into 
His  wonderful  eyes.  Suddenly  the  sacred  hush 
was  broken;  a  man  leaped  up  from  the  ground 
and  shrieked: 

"  Let  us  alone!  What  have  we  to  do  with 
thee,  thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth?  Art  thou  come  to 
destroy  us?  I  know  thee  who  thou  art,  the 
Holy  One  of  God!" 

Instantly  all  was  confusion;  women  shrieked, 
children  cried,  and  men  sprang  up,  exclaiming: 

"  He  hath  an  evil  spirit,  and  polluteth  the 
sanctuary.  Put  him  out!  Put  him  out!" 

But  Jesus  silenced  the  tumult  with  a  word. 
Then,  turning  to  the  demoniac,  who  was  already 
in  the  grasp  of  two  or  three  indignant  worship- 
ers, He  said: 

"  Hold  thy  peace,  and  come  out  of  him!" 

With  a  great  cry  and  convulsion,  the  man  fell 
down  wallowing  upon  the  floor;  but  presently, 
to  the  great  amazement  of  all,  he  rose  up,  calm 
and  in  his  right  mind. 

Then  all  the  people,  being  dismissed,  went 
forth  talking  of"  the  wonderful  thing  which  they 
had  seen;  for  the  man  was  known  to  many  of 
them. 

"  Mother,"  said  Stephen,  that  same  evening, 
"  the  trumpet  hath  sounded  and  'tis  past  sunset; 
shall  we  not  go  forth?  I  would  fain  see  more 
of  this  Jesus." 

"  I  will  go  with  thee  gladly,  my  Stephen,"  re- 
plied his  mother.  "  For  truly  never  man  spake 
as  this  Man.  Yet  I  feel  the  wonder  of  it  all  so 
keenly,  that  I  think  perhaps  I  am  only  dream- 
ing. Can  it  be  that  thou  art  really  well  and 
strong?" 

"It  is  really  true,  mother,"  said  Stephen,  with 
a  happy  laugh.  "  See  how  I  can  leap!  And  my 
back  hath  never  an  ache  in  it  now;  and  see  my 
flesh,  how  firm  it  is!  Oh,  mother,  what  can  we 
do  for  Him  to  show  how  glad,  how  thankful  we 
are?  When  He  said  to  me,  as  I  lay  in  the  dust 
that  dreadful  day,  '  Go  in  peace,'  and  I  sprang 
up  for  the  first  time  since  I  can  remember,  oh 
mother,  I  only  clung  to  Him  and  sobbed— 1  could 
not  speak  for  joy  and  wonder.  Then  He  went 
away  before  I  could  rightly  tell  what  had  hap- 
pened; and  all  the  men  were  staring  at  me,  and 
questioning,  and  others  running  to  see.  And 
then— oh,  then,  mother— I  ran  back  down  the 
street,  and  in  a  moment,  it  seemed,  I  found  my- 
self with  you  and  Adah." 

"  Yes,"  went  on  his  mother,  "  we  thought  the 
little  fellow  dying,  he  lay  so  still,  when  sud- 
denly the  door  of  the  courtyard  flew  open,  and 
thou  didst  fly,  rather  than  run,  to  the  spot  where 
the  baby  lay.  My  Stephen,  I  did  hot  know  thee! 
I  thought  it  was  some  spirit,  till  thou  didst  ery 
out,  '  Gogo  is  naved!  and  I  am  well!'  " 
bo  w»»  well!"  put  iq  9tepb«0* 


"  Yes,  perfectly  well,"  said  Prisca.  "  Not  a 
bruise  on  him.  'Twas  wonderful!" 

"  Mother!"  exclaimed  the  boy  after  a  little 
pause,  "  let  us  go  forth  and  find  some  sick 
ones  among  our  neighbors,  and  tell  them.  Thou 
knowest  that  He  said,  '  I  am  sent  to  heal  the 
broken-hearted;  to  preach  deliverance  to  the 
captives,  and  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind; 
to  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised.'  Those 
were  His  very  words.  I  cannot  forget  them. 
And,  mother,  if  He  came  for  that,  would  it  not 
please  Him  best  if  we  should  help  Him  to  do  it?" 

"  Thou  art  right,  my  son;  I  feel  that  thou  art. 
We  will  go."  And  hastily  wrapping  herself  in 
her  mantle,  and  securing  the  door  of  thefr  little 
home,  she  set  forth  with  the  lad. 

"  We  must  stop  here,"  said  Stephen,  pausing 
before  a  door. 

"  Yes,"  said  Prisca,  "  a  blind  man  dwelleth 
here." 

They  knocked,  and  a  voice  from  within  an- 
swered: "  Enter."  Pushing  open  the  door,  they 
found  themselves  in  a  courtyard  more  wretched 
than  their  own,  for  it  was  untidily  littered  with 
straw  and  filth;  several  goats  and  sheep  wan- 
dered freely  about;  while  a  dozen  or  so  of  fowls 
perched  aloft. 

Sitting  against  the  wall,  with  his  head  bowed 
forward  on  his  knees,  and  his  wretched  gar- 
ments wrapped  tightly  about  him,  was  a  man. 

"  Greetings  to  thee!"  said  the  clear  voice  of 
the  child. 

At  the  sound,  the  man  raised  his  shaggy  head, 
and  turned  his  face  toward  the  doorway. 

"  Who  art  thou?"  he  said  in  a  husky  voice. 

"  I  am  Stephen,  son  of  Dumachus.  I  am  come 
with  my  mother  that  we  may  lead  thee  forth  to 
find  the  great  Healer.  He  will  cure  thee  of  thy 
blindness." 

"  Nay,  thou  mockest  me,"  groaned  the  man. 
"  For  knowest  thou  not  that  my  eyes  were 
burned  out  with  a  red-hot  iron:*  they  be  shriv- 
eled up  in  my  head.  No  man  could  heal  me." 

"  But  thou  knowest  not  the  power  which  this 
Man  hath,"  said  Stephen.  Then  he  poured  forth 
eagerly  the  wonderful  story  of  his  own  healing, 
and  that  of  the  baby. 

But  the  man  only  groaned  and  drew  his  rags 
more  closely  about  him. 

"Come — come  quickly!"  said  the  lad. 

"  Thou  wert  an  innocent  child,  the  babe  also," 
said  the  man  hoarsely,  "  but  I— who  am  I,  that 
one  should  heal  me!  I  am  accursed  of  gods  and 
n?en.  'Twere  best  for  me  to  die." 

"  Nay,  good  neighbor,"  cried  Stephen  impa- 
tiently, understanding  nothing  of  all  this. 
"  Thou  must  come."  And  running  quickly  up 

'Blinding  was  »  common  punishment  in  Bible  times. 
8oo»«Une«  the  tjrei  wire  v>.ira««i  out  by  tbrunUnf  »  red  k«» 
iron  into 


14 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


to  the  man,  he  seized  his  hand  and  gave  him  a 
gentle  pull. 

Something  in  the  touch  of  those  soft  childish 
fingers,  perhaps  the  first  friendly  touch  he  had 
felt  in  years,  broke  do\vn  the  barriers  in  the 
man's  soul— barriers  raised  by  the  disgrace, 
shame  and  suffering  of  years— and  burying  his 
face  in  his  hands,  he  sobbed  aloud,  Stephen  still 
standing  by,  his  childish  soul  perplexed  and 
troubled  at  the  sight  of  so  much  misery. 

"  Come!"  he  said  presently,  again  touching  the 
man.  And  this  time  the  poor  wretch  rose  from 
the  ground,  stretching  forth  his  hands  grop- 
ingly. 

"  I  will  lead  thee,"  said  Stephen  joyfully, 
possessing  himself  of  one  of  the  outstretched 
hands.  And  so  the  two  set  forth,  Prisca  follow- 
ing. 

"  Dost  thou  know  where  to  find  Him?"  asked 
the  man  in  a  trembling  voice,  a  strange  hope  be- 
ginning to  stir  in  his  heart. 

"  Nay,"  said  Stephen,  "  but  we  shall  find 
Him."  Then  with  a  sudden  illumination  of 
eternal  truth,  he  added  simply:  "  If  we  want 
Him  truly  and  seek  for  Him,  we  cannot  fail  to 
find  Him." 

Said  Prisca,  "  I  heard  one  of  the  women  in 
the  synagogue  say  that  He  lodgeth^at  the  house 
of  Simon  the  fisherman.  He  dwelleth  near  the 
lake;  I  know  the  place." 

As  they  proceeded  on  their  way  thither,  they 
saw  many  others  thronging  the  narrow  streets. 
Some  carried  beds  on  which  lay  poor  sufferers 
wasted  with  every  woeful  disease  known  to 
man;  others  led  the  blind,  or  helped  half-crippled 
ones  slowly  and  painfully  along.  And  as  the 
multitude,  ever  growing,  hurried  on,  the  moans 
of  the  sufferers  on  their  beds,  the  shrieks  of  de- 
moniacs, and  the  wailing  of  sick  children,  made 
a  mighty  chorus  of  misery. 

The  house  of  Simon,  as  Prisca  had  said,  was 
by  the  lakeside.  It  was  a  modest  but  thor- 
oughly comfortable  dwelling  of  two  stories. 
Instead  of  the  customary  courtyard,  a  small  gar- 
den extended  in  gentle  terraces  to  the  water's 
edge;  two  or  three  fine  fig  trees  cast  a  pleasant 
shade,  while  roses,  oleanders,  and  lilies  made 
the  spot  a  sweet  and  pleasant  one.  Here  dwelt 
Simon,  who  was  called  also  Peter,  his  wife, 
and  the  mother  of  his  wife,  together  with 
Andrew  his  brother.  And  here  also  dwelt  Jesus 
When  He  sojourned  in  Capernaum. 

On  this  Sabbath  evening  the  family,  with  their 
beloved  Guest,  were  sitting  in  the  garden  enjoy- 
ing the  cool  air,  and  talking  in  low  tones.  That 
day  the  Master  had  done  great  things  for1  them 
also,  1'he  mother  had  been  taken  violently  111 
with  fever,  and  whett  Jesus  wtts  told  of  It  after 
His  return  from  the  synagogue,  He  had  taken 
ber  by  the  band  aud  lifted  her  up,  and  immedl- 


ately  the  fever  had  left  her,  so  that  she  was 
able  to  rise  and  minister  to  them. 

As  they  sat  therefore,  James  and  John  being 
with  them,  enjoying  the  Sabbath  peace,  and 
listening  to  Jesus  as  He  talked,  they  became 
aware  of  a  confusion  of  sounds— sounds  of 
hurrying  feet,  of  loud  crying  and  wailing,  mixed 
with  shrieks  and  groans,  and  ever  drawing 
nearer. 

"  Hark!"  said  the  wife  of  Peter,  rising  in  her 
alarm.  "What  meaneth  those  doleful  sounds?" 

"  The  multitude  is  seeking  the  Master,"  said 
John.  "  They  are  bringing  their  sick  with 
them."  And  rising,  he  went  to  the  door  of  the 
garden  and  looked  out. 

There  was  near  Peter's  house  a  square  or 
market-place,  and  to  this  spot  the  people  were 
hastening.  And  now  they  began  to  lay  then- 
burdens  down  upon  the  ground,  the  first-comers 
crowding  as  near  as  possible  to  the  gateway  of 
the  garden,  calling  out  as  they  did  so:  "  Where 
is  He  that  healeth?  Let  Him  come  forth  to  us!" 
With  many  othe.r  confused  cries,  such  as, 
"  Jesus,  thou  son  of  David,  have  mercy!"  "  Mas- 
ter, come  forth,  we  pray  thee!"  And  through  it 
all  sounded  the  woeful  noise  of  the  wailing  of 
the  sick  ones,  whose  sufferings  had  been  greatly 
increased  by  the  hurried  journey  through  the 
streets  and  by  the  confusion  and  excite- 
ment. 

But  now  into  the  midst  of  all  this  misery  came 
the  benign  figure  of  the  great  Physician,  divine 
love,  sympathy,  tenderness  and  healing  flowing 
from  His  compassionate  eyes  and  His  out- 
stretched hands,  even  as  the  fragrance  pours 
forth  from  the  cup  of  a  lily. 

And  as  He  moved  among  the  wretched  beings, 
and  touched  one  here  and  there,  laying  His 
hands  on  others  with  words  of  forgiveness  and 
peace,  the  moans  and  shrieks  changed  to  cries 
of  rejoicing  and  relief.  Already  many  were 
going  happily  away,  to  make  room  for  others 
who  were  still  coming  from  every  quarter, 
when  Prisca  and  Stephen  with  their  charge 
reached  the  place. 

"  He  is  here,"  said  Stephen  joyfully,  clasping 
the  hand  of  the  blind  man  closer  in  his.  "  And 
many,  oh,  many  others  are  here  to  be  healed; 
and  some  are  going  away  well,"  he  continued. 

And  indeed  the  quick  ear  of  the  blind  man 
had  already  caught  the  exclamations  of  thanks- 
giving, amid  the  general  babel  of  sound,  and, 
breaking  away  from  the  hands  that  still  held 
him,  he  ran,  With  a  quick  and  sure  instinct,  co 
a  little  open  space  where  Jesus  had  paused  for 
an  instant  and  throwing  himself  on  his  knees. 
Caught  Him  by  the  garment,  ttnd  cried  out 
loudly  i 

"Jesus,  Master!  I  beseech  thai  to  Uav« 
mercy  on  me{" 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


15 


And  He  answered  him:  "  Believest  thou  tliat 
I  am  able  to  do  this?" 

"  I  believe,"  murmured  the  man,  turning  his 
sightless  eyes  up  to  the  face  above  him. 

Jesus,  looking  at  him,  beheld  behind  the  blind 
eyes  the  soul  stained  with  guilt,  weary  with  suf- 
fering, and  hungry  for  love;  and,  touching  his 
eyes,  He  said,  "  Go  in  peace." 

And  the  blind  man  was  blind  no  longer.  He 
saw;  and  his  first  vision  was  of  that  face  full  of 
compassion  and  tenderness.  Then  was  his  soul 
stirred  with  a  mighty  love  for  the  Healer.  And 
he  rose  up  and  went  away,  as  he  was  bidden, 
carrying  with  him  a  memory  destined  to  become 
a  perpetual  fountain  of  blessing  to  himself  and 
others  through  time  and  eternity. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HE  morning  sun,  as  it  flick- 
ered cheerfully  through  the 
high  latticed  window  of  a 
room  in  the  house  of  Caia- 
phas,  revealed  an  apart- 
ment of  noble  proportions 
furnished  after  the  fashion 
of  the  times,  with  a  divan 
extending  along  the  wall  on 
three  sides;  the  fourth  side 
being  open,  showed  between  its  light  twisted 
pillars  of  colored  marble,  glimpses  of  the  terrace 
outside.  The  floor,  was  covered  with  thick  rugs 
of  Eastern  manufacture,  while  tapestries  of  rich 
hues  draped  the  walls;  here  and  there  curious 
low  tables  and  chairs  of  Roman  workmanship, 
together  with  rare  vases  and  a  multitude  of 
costly  trifles,  completed  an  interior  speaking  of 
both  wealth  and  refinement. 

The  sole  occupant  of  the  room  on  this  pleasant 
morning  was  Anna,  the  wife  of  Caiaphas.  The 
years,  laden  with  sorrow,  had  left  their  traces, 
for  her  hair  was  streaked  with  white,  and  lines 
here  and  there  on  her  fair  face  spoke  of  suffer- 
ing patiently  borne;  but  beneath  the  dark  brows 
her  eyes  shone  sweet  and  bright,  while  the 
curves  of  her  noble  figure  were  still  perfect  and 
graceful  as  in  youth. 

From  where  she  sat  at  ease  on  the  divan  with 
her  embroidery,  the  noble  Anna  could  look  out 
upon  the  terrace,  where  climbing  roses  and 
other  fragrant  flowers  wreathed  the  balustrades, 
and  cast  pleasant  silhouettes  of  dancing  leavea 
on  the  marble  pavement  beneath.  The  tinkling 
of  a  fountain  was  borne  pleasantly  to  the  ear, 
mingled  with  tbe  twittering  of  birds.  It  waa 
very  quiet  and  peaceful,  and  the  peace  seemed 
reflected  In  the  face  of  tiie  lady,  as  she  worked 


quietly  and  steadily,  drawing  the  gold  threads 
through  the  rich  fabric  in  her  hands. 

Presently  there  was  a  sound  of  footsteps  on 
the  terrace,  and  Anna,  raising  her  eyes  from 
her  work,  saw  the  tall  figure  of  a  man  standing 
at  the  entrance. 

"  Greetings  to  thee,  my  wife,"  he  said. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  lady  rose,  and 
casting  aside  her  work,  came  forward  to  meet 
him  with  a  little  cry  of  joy. 

"  'Tis  thou,  my  husband!  And  I  expected  thee 
not  until  evening." 

"  We  traveled  by  the  light  of  the  full  moon, 
and  found  it  more  pleasant  than  sunlight,"  said 
the  man.  "Is  all  well  with  the  household?" 
he  continued,  "  and  with  thee,  my  Anna?" 

"  All  is  well,"  she  answered.  "  And  how  didst 
thou  find  our  kinsfolk  in  Capernaum?" 

"  They  are  in  good  health,"  replied  Caiaphas; 
then  frowning  darkly,  he  added,  "  But  Jairus  is 
as  strangely  infatuated  with  the  Man  Jesus  as 
are  others  in  Galilee;  he  declares  that  he  be- 
lieveth  Him  to  be  the  Messiah.  'Tis  rank  blas- 
phemy, and  goeth  against  the  Scriptures." 

"  But  is  it  true  about  the  miracles  of  healing  of 
which  we  have  heard?"  asked  Anna,  with  true 
feminine  curiosity. 

"  There  is  no  end  to  the  marvels  which  fill  the 
mouth  of  every  Galilean  clodhopper,"  said 
Caiaphas  contemptuously.  "  I  would  that  the 
marvels  were  all  of  it,  but  the  pestilential  teach- 
ings of  the  Man—"  Here  he  checked  himself, 
saying,  "  But  these  be  not  things  to  trouble  thee 
with.  I  shall  take  steps  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  And 
now  I  must  rid  myself  of  the  stains  of  travel; 
and  wilt  thou,  my  Anna,  bid  the  servants  pre- 
pare me  some  refreshment,  for  I  have  not  eaten 
since  before  sunrise.  But  stay!"  he  added,  fum- 
bling in  the  ample  folds  of  his  garment.  "  I 
have  a  letter  for  thee  from  the  wife  of  Jairus." 
And  handing  Anna  a  small  sealed  packet,  he 
hurriedly  left  the  apartment 

Anna  regarded  the  letter  in  her  hand  with  a 
smile  of  pleased  expectancy,  but  forebore  to 
open  it  until  she  had  made  due  arrangements 
with  her  niaids  for  the  comfort  of  her  husband; 
for  she  was  a  notable  housewife.  Then  travers- 
ing the  terrace,  she  descended  the  marble  stair- 
way which  led  into  the  garden,  and  seating  her- 
self upon  a  bench  near  the  fountain,  proceeded 
to  break  the  seal  of  the  letter  which  she  still 
held  in  her  hand.  It  was  very  unlike  the  letters 
which  come  to  us  from  our  friends  nowadays; 
for  it  was  written  upon  a  fine  parchment,  then 
tightly  rolled*  bound  about  with  a  silken  thread, 
and  sealed  with  wax  in  several  places;  so  that 
the  opening  of  it  was  a  matter  which  occupied 
several  moments,  The  "met  seal  being  broken, 
the  lady  spread  open  the  parchment  and  began 
to  read. 


16 


TITUS,  A  COM  BADE  OF  TEE  CROSS. 


Sara,  the  wife  of  Jarfiw,  unto  the  noble  lady  Anna,  my 
sister,  Moved  of  Jehovah,  Greetings: 

We  have  had  much  pleasure  in  the  presence  with 
us  of  Caiaphas,  thy  most  noble  husband,  and  the  High 
Priest  of  the  Holy  Temple.  And  especially  did  we 
rejoice  in  the  knowledge  that  all  is  well  with  thee,  and 
with  thy  household,  and  with  the  household  of  Annas, 
our  father.  In  truth,  though  this  be  a  fair  city,  and 
though  our  home  be  very  dear  to  me,  I  oftentimes 
long  for  the  things  of  my  youth,  and  for  the  faces  of 
my  kinsfolk  and  acquaintance  which  be  at  Jerusalem. 
Of  late,  there  hath  been  that  which  hath  caused  much 
talk  among  us:  To-wit,  the  presence  in  Capernaum 
of  the  Nazarene,  Jesus,  who  hath  wrought  great  won- 
ders of  healing,  and  teacheth  new  and  strange  things. 
My  husband,  Jarius,  who  is,  as  thou  knowest,  a  just 
man,  and  one  holy  and  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  our 
God,  believeth  Him  to  be  the  Messiah  foretold  by  trie 
Scriptures;  and  I  grieve  that  the  matter  was  one 
which  caused  a  hot  dispute  between  my  husband  and 
the  worshipful  Caiaphas.  As  for  myself,  I  have  seen 
with  mine  own  eyes  that  which  hath  caused  me  to  be 
filled  with  wonder  and  amazement:  for,  behold,  the 
lame  walk,  the  deaf  hear,  and  all  manner  of  diseases 
have  been  healed  by  this  Man.  Moreover,  He  hath 
cast  out  many  devils  from  those  possessed  by  them, 
and  the  devils  themselves  have  testified  of  Him  that 
He  is  the  Holy  One  of  God. 

He  is  beautiful  to  look  upon,  my  Anna,  but  of  a 
mysterious  and  wonderful  presence,  so  that,  while 
one  looks,  there  seemeth  to  go  out  from  Him  an  influ- 
ence which  draweth  all  unto  Him.  Even  our  little 
Ruth,  who  hath  seen  Him,  and  heard  Him  preach  in 
our  synagogue,  ceaseth  not  to  talk  of  Him;  and  she 
doth  frequently  beg  me  to  go  forth  with  her  to  seek 
Him.  This  have  1  not  done,  for  the  crowds  which 
attend  Him  at  all  times  are  so  great  that  it  were  not 
seemly  for  me,  a  daughter  of  Annas,  to  mingle  with 
tht.'m.  Notwithstanding,  I  have  taken  every  oppor- 
tunity to  hear  Him  whenever  it  hath  been  possible, 
and  also  to  inform  myself  of  His  teachings.  He  teach- 
eth often  by  stories  and  parables,  and,  in  brief,  that 
all  may  return  unto  God  the  Father  of  all.  He  speaks 
of  Himself,  sometimrs  as  the  Son  of  God,  and  some- 
times as  the  Son  of  man,  and  declareth  that  He  huth 
come  from  God  to  call  sinners  to  repentance.  It  is 
rumored  that  in  Samaria,  even,  He  hesitated  n  >t  to 
talk  to  a  woman  of  their  nation  concerning  this  salva- 
tion ;  which  thing  would  not  be  done  by  the  Rabbis, 
as  thou  knowest.  for  indeed  the  Samaritans  be  not  of 
the  true  faith. 

Another  strange  thing  about  this  Man  is  that  He 
hath  selected  for  His  followers  certain  men  of  the 
lower  classes,  some  of  whom  are  fishermen  by  trade, 
and  dwell  in  Capernaum.  In  truth,  my  sister,  I  fear 
that  I  cannot  make  thee  clearly  to  understand  why  we 
are  inclined  in  our  hearts  to  believe  that  this  Man  is, 
indeed,  the  Messiah.  But  if  He  cometh  up  to  Jerusa- 
lem, be  sure  that  thou  makest  an  occasion  of  seeking 
Him  for  thyself;  then  assuredly  thou  wilt  understand. 

The  little  Ruth  sendeth  greetings,  so  also  doth 
Jarius.  my  husband.  We  hope  to  see  thee  at  no  dis- 
tant day,  for  the  next  Feast  day  is  now  not  far  away, 
and  we  shall  expect  to  come  up*  to  Jerusalem  at  that 
time. 

And  now,  my  beloved  sister,  thou  seest  how  long  a 
letter  I  have  written  to  thee  with  mine  own  hand. 
Wilt  thou,  for  me,  greet  Annas,  our  father;  also  our 
brothers,  together  with  their  households?  May  the 
God  of  Abraham  keep  thee  and  thine.  And  now, 
Farewell. 

As  Anna  finished  reading  this  epistle,  she  be- 
came aware  that  someone  was  waiting  her 
pleasur*  to  ipeak  with  b*r,  and  raisiuar  ber  eyes, 


she  saw  Malchus,  the  favorite  servant  of  her 
husband.  The  man  made  a  gesture  expressive 
of  profound  respect,  and  then  spoke: 

"  My  lord  hath  desired  me  to  say  unto  thee, 
most  noble  lady,  that  matters  of  importance  will 
detain  him  until  the  hour  for  the  evening  repast. 
He  will  see  thee  at  that  time,  if  it  be  thy  pleas- 
ure." 

The  man  after  delivering  his  message  was 
about  to  withdraw,  when  Anna  detained  him 
with  a  word. 

"  Stay!"  she  said.  "  Thou  mayst  tell  thy  mas- 
ter that  it  is  well,  and  that  the  repast  will  be 
served  in  the  garden  of  the  inner  house,  at  sun- 
set. I  will  await  him  there." 

Then  as  the  man  still  lingered,  she  added 
pleasantly—  for  he  was  an  old  and  trusted  ser- 
vant— "  Didst  thou  enjoy  thy  journey  to  Caper- 
naum, Malchus?" 

"  I  did,  most  noble  lady,"  was  the  reply;  then 
rather  hesitatingly  he  added,  "I  saw  there  a 
man  whom  I  knew  formerly  iu  Jerusalem.  He 
had  been  sick  with  the  palsy*  for  many  year*, 
and  when  last  I  saw  him,  had  lain  on  his  bod 
unable  to  move  for  more  than  ten  years.  He  was 
walking  about  in  the  streets  of  Capernaum  as 
nimbly  as  I  myself.  I  spoke  with  him.  for  I 
thought  at  first  that  my  eyes  had  played  UK- 
false,  but  it  was  the  same  man.  His  name  13 
Eliphaz,  and  formerly,  before  he  was  stricken 
with  his  ailment,  he  was  a  servant  of  the  revered 
Annas." 

"  And  what  caused  this  most  notable  cure, 
good  Malchus?"  said  Anna  encouragingly. 

"I  asked  him,  most  noble  «lady,  and  he  said 
that  one  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  is  in  Galilee, 
saw  him  lying  upon  his  mat  at  the  city  gate, 
and  bade  him  rise  up  and  carry  his  bed  to  his 
home;  and  that  he  was  able  to  carry  out  thy 
command.  It  was  a  most  amazing  thing!  After- 
ward, I  myself  saw  the  Man  who  worked  the 
miracle." 

"  Didst  thou  see  Him  perform  any  cure?"  ques- 
tioned Anna. 

"  Nay;  He  was  telling  a  story  to  a  crowd  of 
people.  'Twas  a  pretty  tale  and  easy  to  bo 
understood.  The  children  who  were  there  —  and 
there  were  very  many  of  them—  listened  as 
quietly  as  any  of  the  grown  folk.  I  should  like 
to  have  heard  more,  but  I  could  not  stop,  for  I 
was  taking  a  message  from  my  master  to  one  of 
the  Rabbis." 

Anna  longed  to  question  the  man  further, 
but  restrained  herself,  and  dismissed  Lim 
with  a  pleasant  word  of  praise  for  his  faithful- 
ness. 

Meanwhile  Caiaphas,   the   High   Priest,   was 


A   nervous    dissuse   which    deprlvM    tl»> 
»S«et«d  parts  of  th«  power  of  motion. 


TITUS,  A  COM&ADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


seriously  occupied  in  his  own  part  of  the  man- 
sion. Soon  after  his  arrival  in  Jerusalem,  he  had 
sent  messengers  to  men  of  authority  in  the  Jew- 
ish church,  with  imperative  summons  to  wait 
upon  him  at  a  certain  hour  in  the  palace.  For 
some  time  past,  a  servant  had  been  ushering 
these  expected  guests  into  an  apartment  which 
was  especially  set  apart  for  such  purposes.  It 
was,  like  the  other  rooms  in  the  palace,  lofty  and 
well  lighted,  but  furnished  with  the  utmost  sim- 
plicity and  severity. 

When  all  were  assembled,  Malchus  acquainted 
his  master  with  the  fact,  and  he  entered  the 
apartment  with  a  mien  at  once  dignified  and 
austere.  All  but  one  of  the  company  rose  in 
greeting,  and  before  that  one,  Caiaphas  himself 
paused,  and,  bowing  his  head,  said: 

"  Most  revered  and  noble  Annas,  I  greet  thee; 
and  I  am  especially  glad  that  thou  art  present 
with  us  to-day,  for  by  thy  wisdom  thou  canst 
guide  us  in  our  deliberations." 

The  man  who  had  sat  to  receive  the  salutation 
of  the  High  Priest,  was  of  reverend  aspect;  his 
beard  flowing  upon  his  breast  was  of  silvery 
whiteness,  while  beneath  the  snowy  folds  of  his 
turban  shone  singularly  keen  and  brilliant  eyes. 
Yet  despite  its  dignity,  there  was  in  the  face  of 
this  man  that  which  to  the  close  observer  would 
indicate  cunning,  obstinacy,  and  cruelty. 

He  responded  courteously  to  the  greeting  of 
Caiaphas,  and  as  the  latter  seated  himself  said: 
"  My  son,  thou  hast  called  us  together  to-day  to 
learn  the  result  of  thy  mission  to  Galilee. 
What  is  now  thine  opinion  of  the  Man  who  is 
called  Jesus?" 

"  I  found,"  said  Caiaphas,  "  that  the  reports  of 
the  excitement  in  Galilee  had  not  been  exag- 
gerated, but  rather  that  we  had  not  heard  to  the 
full  how  this  Man  hath  stirred  up  the  populace 
He  hath  been  teaching  not  only  in  the  streets  of 
the  city,  and  in  the  byways  of  the  country  round 
about,  but,  after  the  manner  of  the  Rabbis,  He 
enters  into  the  synagogues  and  teaches  there 
According  to  the  popular  reports  He  hath  per- 
formed great  works  of  healing.  Of  these  I  did 
not  satisfy  myself;  for  I  saw  nothing,  and  of 
that  which  I  heard,  I  make  no  account.  The 
credulity  of  the  common  people  is  well  known; 
and  more  especially  in  Galilee,  they  are  ignor- 
ant and  little  qualified  to  judge  of  such  mat- 
ters." 

"  But,"  said  a  man  called  Nicodemus,  "  is  it 
not  true  that  even  in  Jerusalem  this  Jesus 
wrought  some  notable  cures?" 

"  'Tis  said  that  He  did,  most  noble  friend,"  re- 
plied Caiaphas.  "  But  which  of  us  can  prove 
it?  If  the  cures  had  been  performed  upon  re- 
putable citizens,  they  might  perhaps  be  worthy 
of  our  note;  but,  as  thou  knowest,  the  ones  pro- 
fessing to  be  healed  were  beggars.  And  the 


word  of  a  beggar— what  is  it!  But  after  all,  it 
is  not  of  this  Jesus  as  a  physician  that  we  would 
speak.  He  might  heal  all  the  beggars  in  the 
country  without  harm;  but  His  more  serious  pre- 
tensions demand  our  consideration.  I  tell  thee 
frankly  that  the  Man  pretends  to  be  the  Mes- 
siah, and  as  such  is  likely  to  have  a  great  follow- 
ing among  the  people." 

"  His  pretensions  are  blasphemous,"  broke  in 
the  sonorous  voice  of  Annas.  "  I  have  studied 
the  Prophets  from  my  youth  up,  and  nowhere 
do  I  find  such  an  one  as  this  foretold.  The  Mes- 
siah is  to  be  a  mighty  King,  who  will  save  the 
chosen  people  of  Jehovah  from  the  hand  of  their 
enemies;  and  He  shall  establish  His  throne  in 
Jerusalem  and  reign  in  power.  It  is  moreover 
prophesied,  that  the  Prince  shall  be  of  the 
lineage  of  David,  and  shall  be  born  in  Bethle- 
hem of  Judea.  This  Man  is  a  Nazarene." 

"If  this  Man  were  the  Messiah,"  said  another, 
"  He  would  assuredly  seek  to  ally  himself  with 
the  priesthood  of  the  Most  High." 

"  He  not  only  doth  not  so  seek  to  ally  him- 
self," broke  in  Caiaphas  with  an  angry  frown, 
"  but  He  hath  been  heard  to  speak  lightly  of  the 
laws  and  customs  of  the  Church,  and  even  of 
the  Pharisees  and  Scribes.  Moreover,  He  ob- 
serveth  not  our  laws,  and  doth  eat  with  un- 
washen  hands,*  and  mingleth  with  publicans** 
and  sinners,  even  going  into  their  houses  to  eat 
and  to  drink.  My  counsel  is.  that  we  require  cer- 
tain wise  and  prudent  ones  of  the  Ilabbis  to 
watch  this  Man.  and  report  to  us  of  His  doings; 
for  there  is  great  danger  to  the  priesthood,  and 
to  the  institutions  of  the  God  of  our  fathers,  if 
He  be  allowed  to  teach  unchecked." 

"  Thou  spcakest  with  wisdom,  servant  of  the 
Most  High."  said  Annas.  "  It  is  our  duty  to 
guard  the  faith  of  our  fathers,  and  to  preserve  it 
from  contamination.  If  this  Man  be  a  blas- 
phemer. He  ought  to  die.  It  is  our  law.  Yet 
must  we  move  with  due  caution  and  secrecy  in 
the  matter,  lest  we  incur  the  displeasure  of  the 
people." 

A  murmur  of  applause  followed  this  sentiment; 
and  then  arose  a  discussion  of  ways  and  means, 
which  was  partaken  of  by  all  present,  with  the 
result  that  certain  wise  and  crafty  men,  ap- 
proved by  the  Council,  were  appointed  to  go  into 
Galilee  for  the  purpose  of  watching  the  Man 
Jesus,  that  they  might  find  sufficient  accusation 
against  Him  to  warrant  putting  Him  to  death. 


*Unwashed  hands  does  not  refer  to  the  ordinary  wash- 
ing for  cleanliness,  but  to  the  breaking  of  some  of  the  many 
rules  for  washing  which  the  Pharisees  observed.  Not  to 
keep  these  was  thought  to  defile  a  person. 

**Tax-gatherers.  who  collected  the  taxes  imposed  by  the 
Romans,  to  whom  the  Jews  were  subject.  They  were 
hated  by  the  Jews,  not  only  because  many  of  them  were 
unjust  in  taking  more  than  was  right,  but  because  the 
Jews  did  not  wish  to  pay  tribute,  or  taxes. 


18 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


IS  a  wonderful  tale,  my 
Stephen,  but  I  must 
needs  believe  it,  since 
I  have  thee  before 
mine  eyes,  and  I  make  sure  that 
I  am  not  dreaming  it  all." 

The  speaker  was  Titus,  and  as  he  said  the  last 
words,  he  gave  himself  a  vigorous  shake,  as  if 
to  prove  to  himself  beyond  a  doubt  that  he  was 
in  full  possession  of  his  waking  senses. 

The  two  lads  were  walking  slowly  along  the 
lake  shore,  stopping  now  and  then,  half  me- 
chanically, to  throw  a  pebble  into  the  translucent 
water  which  rippled  on  the  beach  at  their  feet. 
Stephen  had  been  pouring  forth  the  wonderful 
tale  of  his  meeting  with  Jesus,  and  of  the  heal- 
ing of  Gogo  and  himself. 

"  And  to  think,"  he  went  on,  "  that  thou  hast 
not  seen  Him!  Nay,  but  thou  must  see  Him  when 
He  returns  to  Capernaum.  Oh,  Titus,  I  love 
Him  so — better  than  any  one  in  the  whole 
world!" 

"  Better  than  thy  mother,  boy?"  questioned 
Titus,  somewhat  surprised. 

"  Yes,  better  than  mother;  and  yet  I  love 
mother  more  than  ever  before,  and  thee  also, 
my  Titus.  He  loves  everyone.  If  thou  couldst 
have  seen  His  face,  the  night  when  so  many  sick 
folk  were  carried  to  Him  to  be  healed!  I  was 
half  afraid  to  look,  and  yet  I  longed  to,  for  there 
was  a  light  upon  it  like  to  the  light  of  the  sun— 
and  yet  not  like  it;  and  when  He  spoke  to  the 
blind  man,  and  said  to  him,  '  Go  in  peace,'  I  felt 
in  my  soul  that  the  man  must  needs  see.  No  one 
could  remain  blind  before  the  glory  of  that  face! 
Thou  knowest,"  continued  Stephen,  after  a  little 
pause,  "that  we  have  had  no  religion;  father 
speaks  of  the  gods,  when  he  curses.  Mother 
told  me  once  that  she  was  of  Jewish  blood,  yet 
hath  she  never  gone  to  the  synagogue,  save  once 
when  she  knew  that  the  Healer  would  be  there. 
I  would  I  knew  something  of  the  Father  of 
whom  He  speaks.  One  thing  I  know,"  he  added 
with  energy,  "  I  shall  continued  to  follow  Him 
and  listen  to  all  that  He  saith,  and  perhaps  I 
shall  find  out  soon." 

"  Hast  thou  had  speech  with  the  Man  since  He 
healed  thee?"  asked  Titus. 

"  Nay,"  answered  Stephen,  "  He  is  always  sur- 


rounded with  crowds,  and  so  many  would  speak 
with  Him  that  I  know  not  how  He  findeth  time 
to  take  food;  but  I  have  followed  Him  day  by 
day  here  in  Capernaum,  and  when,  a  few  days 
since,  He  set  forth  to  visit  the  villages  round 
about,  I  went  as  far  as  I  could  with  Him.  I  knew 
the  mother  would  fear  for  me,  if  I  failed  to  re- 
turn by  nightfall.— Titus,  I  am  sure  that  some- 
thing is  wrong  with  mother.  She  weeps  often 
and  so  bitterly  that  I  am  afraid -yet  father  hath 
been  away,  and  I  am  well." 

"  Hast  thou  asked  her  what  aileth  her?"  quer- 
ied Titus. 

"  Often  and  often,"  said  Stephen,   "  but  she 
only  answers:    '  Thou  canst  not  help  me,   my 
son,  and  why  should  I  tell  thee?'    Wilt  thou  ask 
her,  my  Titus?" 
' "  Perhaps,"  said  Titus  briefly. 

"  And  now  tell  nie  what  thou  hast  been  doing, 
and  where  thou  hast  been;  and  let  us  sit  here, 
in  the  shade  of  this  tree,  for  the  sun  waxeth  too 
warm  for  comfort."  And  Stephen  threw  him- 
self down  beneath  a  thrifty  fig  tree. 

Titus  followed  his  example,  and  pulling  a 
stalk  of  lilies,  which  grew  near,  he  began  pluck- 
ing it  to  pieces,  throwing  the  brilliant  leaves  in 
showers  upon  the  ground. 

"  Thou  wouldst  not  do  that,  hadst  thou  heard 
the  Master  speak  of  the  lilies,"  said  Stephen 
quietly,  stretching  out  his  hand  as  if  to  save 
the  flowers. 

"  And  what  said  He  of  the  lilies?"  asked  Titus 
moodily,  continuing  his  work  of  destruction. 

"  He  said  that  the  Father  made  them,  and  that 
if  He  cared  for  the  lilies  enough  to  make  them 
so  fair,  He  would  surely  care  for  the  creatures 
which  He  also  made.  He  said,  too,  that  He 
Himself  came  to  teach  us  of  the  Father,  who  is 
great  and  mighty,  and  who  loves  all  of  us." 

"  Humph!"  said  Titus  gruffly,  throwing  away 
the  dismantled  stalk  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

'•  What  aileth  thee,  my  Titus?"  said  Stephen 
tenderly,  taking  one  of  the  strong  brown  hands 
in  both  his  own.  "  Thou  seemest  not  like  thy- 
self. But  come,  tell  me  of  all  that  thou  didst 
while  thou  wert  gone." 

« »Twere  not  a  fit  tale  for  thee  to  hear,"  said 
Titus,  fixing  a  gloomy  look  on  the  white  sails 
glittering  on  the  blue  surface  of  the  lake. 
"What  couldst  thou  expect  of  such  ruffians? 
Thou  didst  hear  them  talk  the  night  we  set 
forth.  I  was  compelled  by  brute  force  to  do 
things  which  I  will  not  tell  thee.  Nay,  may  niy 
tongue  wither  up  in  my  mouth,  if  I  do!"  he 
added  fiercely.  "  I  tell  thee  I  hate  Dumachus 
and  all  of  his  crew!  They  be  devils,  and  will 
make  me  one  too.  When  thou  talkest  in  thy  in- 
nocent fashion  of  this  great  Healer,  as  thou  call- 
est  Him,  I  cannot  tell  thee  how  I  feel.  He  heal- 
eth  the  lame,  the  sick  and  the  helpless,  while  we 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


19 


have  been  robbing,  maiming — yes,  even  killing!" 
—the  last  in  a  husky  whisper,  and  the  lad  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands,  and  wept  convulsively. 

Stephen  sat  in  perfect  silence,  all  the  happy 
light  gone  out  of  his  face;  but  at  length  he 
stretched  out  his  hand,  and  laid  it  gently  on 
Titus'  bowed  head. 

"  Thou  wouldst  never  do  such  things  of  thy- 
self, my  Titus.  Thou  hast  ever  been  tender  with 
the  mother  and  with  me;  in  the  dark  days  before 
I  was  healed,  I  could  never  have  borne  it  but 
for  thee;  thou  didst  carry  me  in  thy  strong  arms; 
thou  didst  sing  to  me,  and  tell  me  tales  which 
eased  me  of  my  weariness  and  pain.  Thou  art 
a  good  lad,  and  a  true,  Titus,"  he  went  on 
stoutly,  "  and  thou  shalt  not  go  with  those  bad 

men  again. 
Stay  with  the 
mother  and 
me,  and  all 
shall  be  well 
with  thee." 

Titus  had 
ceased  his  sob- 
b  i  n  g  ,  and, 
straighte  n  i  n  g 
himself  and 
half  turning 
away  his  face 
to  hide  the  red- 
ness of  his 
eyes,  he  said 
brokenly : 
"I  am 
good, 
Stephen, 
thou  art 


"1  have  heard  them  droning  out 
their  long  prayers." 


not 
my 
but 
good 

Qnough  for  us 
both.  Let  us 
walk  further." 
"  Yes,  let  us," 
said  Stephen,  springing  up  with  alacrity.  "  It 
may  be  that  we  shall  meet  Him  of  whom  I  have 
told  thee.  A  week  since,  He  set  forth  to  make 
a  circuit  of  the  lake,  for  I  asked  one  of  the  fish- 
ermen who  follow  Him  at  all  times." 

"  What  fishermen  dost  thou  mean?"  asked 
Titus,  interested  in  the  mention  of  his  own 
favorite  craft. 

"  They  be  Simon,  with  his  brother  Andrew, 
also  James  and  John,  sons  of  Zebedee.  Dost 
know  them?" 

"  I  know  who  they  are;  I  have  oftentimes  seen 
them  on  the  lake  fishing,  and  once,  one  of  them 
spoke  kindly  to  me  at  the  wharf." 

"  They  do  not  fish  now,"  said  Stephen.  "  They 
have  given  it  up,  that  they  may  not  leave  the 
Healer.  I  heard  the  people  talk  of  it.  A  Rabbi 
in  the  crowd  said,  '  Good  people,  this  Man  select- 
eth  strange  disciples;  dost  see  it?'  But  the  people 


paid  no  manner  of  attention  to  him— they  wore 
too  busy  talking  of  all  that  they  had  seen  and 
heard." 

"  Then  the  Rabbis  love  him  not?"  said  Titus 
with  a  laugh.  "  They  be  jealous  for  their  own 
teaching— the  canting  hypocrites!  I  have  heard 
them  standing  in  the  market-places,  droning  out 
their  long  prayers.  They  must  needs  draw  their 
robes  about  them,  for  fear  such  an  one  as  I 
should  pollute  them  with  a  touch.  But  what  is 
that  crowd  of  people  yonder  about?  See  them 
running  from  every  direction!  Let  us  make 
haste  and  see!" 

Saying  which,  Titus  broke  into  a  run,  followed 
by  Stephen,  now  as  fleet-footed  as  himself. 

"What  is  it  all  about?  I  see  nothing,"  said 
Titus,  to  one  who  was  craning  his  neck  to  look 
up  the  road. 

"  Knowest  thou  not,"  answered  the  man, 
"that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth  this  way? 
Even  now  He  is  coming.  Dost  thou  not  see?" 
And  he  pointed  to  a  cloud  of  dust  on  the  high- 
way, amidst  which  dimly  appeared  a  confused 
multitude  of  people.  "  Thou  seest  that  great 
numbers  are  with  Him,"  continued  their  inform- 
ant. "  The  people  flock  after  Him  from  every 
village.  There  hath  never  been  the  like  of  this 
Man  in  these  parts  before;  for  He  doeth  won- 
ders of  healing,  and  besides  that,  He  speaketh 
not  as  the  Rabbis,  but  with  such  power  that 
even  the  devils  obey  Him." 

"  I  am  one  that  He  healed,"  said  Stephen 
simply,  for  he  could  not  help  telling  his  own 
story  to  every  one  who  would  listen. 

The  man  stared  at  him.  "  And  of  what  did 
He  heal  thee?"  he  asked. 

"  I  was  a  cripple — "  began  Stephen.  But  at 
that  moment  they  were  interrupted  by  a  loud 
and  mournful  cry,  but  withal  in  so  strange  a 
voice  that  all  started  to  hear  it. 

"Unclean!    Unclean!"  wailed > the  voice. 

"  Room  for  the  leper!"*  shouted  half  a  dozen 
voices;  and  there  was  an  instant  scattering 
among  those  who  were  crowding  the  road  in 
their  anxiety  to  see. 

Stephen  and  Titus  shrank  back  among  the  rest, 
and  saw  the  tall  figure  of  the  leper,  as  he  limped 
painfully  toward  the  advancing  multitude,  still 
crying  at  intervals  in  his  hoarse,  metallic  voice: 

"Unclean!    Unclean!" 

His  face  was  partly  concealed  by  the  coarse 
linen  of  his  head-covering,  which  he  had  drawn 
forward  so  as  to  hide  as  much  as  possible  the 
ghastly  ravages  of  his, malady.  But  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  was  suffering  from  an  advanced 


*A  person  affected  with  a  loathsome  disease  called 
leprosy,  which  was  considered  incurable.  It  was  thought 
to  be  dangerous  to  touch  or  even  to  come  near  one  having 
this  malady.  Lepers  were  obliged  to  live  away  by  them- 
selves, and  whenever  they  approached  other  people  to  cry 
out  as  a  warning,  "Uncleanl  Unclean!" 


20 


TITUS,  A  COMfiADE  Of  THE  CROSS. 


stage  of  that  disease  the  most  horrible  and  hopo- 
less  which  has  ever  afflicted  mankind. 

By  this  time  the  confused  crowd  of  men, 
women  and  children,  with  Jesus  walking  in  their 
midst,  had  nearly  reached  the  place  where  the 
leper  stood.  As  they  approached,  again  sounded 
forth  the  dismal  cry: 

"  Unclean!    Unclean!" 

The  advancing  multitude  shrank  back,  leaving 
Jesus  standing  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  high- 
way. When  the  leper  saw  Him,  and  that  He 
did  not  turn  from  him,  as  did  the  others,  he  rafi 
forward,  and  falling  upon  his  face  in  the  dust, 
cried  out: 

"  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me 
clean." 

And  Jesus  put  forth  His  hand  and  touched 
him,  saying,  "  I  will:  be  thou  clean." 

And  immediately  he  rose  up  and  it  was  seen 
of  all  of  them  that  his  leprosy  was  departed, 
and  that  his  flesh  was  like  that  of  other  men. 

In  the  awed  hush  that  followed,  Jesus  talked 
with  him  that  had  been  a  leper;  but  in  so  low  a 
tone  that  no  other  could  hear.  Afterward  it 
appeared  from  the  man's  account,  that  the 
Healer  was  directing  him  to  go  quietly  and  show 
h'mself  to  the  priest,  as  Moses  had  commanded, 
thus  fulfilling  the  law  of  cleansing;*  and  also, 
that  He  charged  him  strictly  to  tell  no  one  else 
<  1'  the  wonderful  thing  which  had  been  done 
unto  him. 


him.  Stephen  saw  that  his  great  dark  eyes  were 
brimming  over  with  tears. 


"  Unclean!     Unclean!  "  wailed  the  voice. 

But  as  the  man  departed,  a  great  cry  arose 
from  all  the  people,  and  they  crowded  about  the 
Healer  more  closely  than  before,  so  that 
Stephen  and  Titus,  who  still  stood  at  the  edge 
of  the  throng,  were  pushed  to  one  side. 

"  Was  not  that  a  marvelous  thing?"  said 
Stephen,  when  he  could  find  his  voice. 

But  Titus  did  not  answer,  and,  looking  up  at 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SAY,  young  man ! 
thou  lookest  to 
have  a  sturdy 
back  —  wilt  thou 
not  help  us  with 
our  burden?" 

The  speaker 
was  one  of 
four  men. who 
were  bearing 
some  appar- 
ently heavy 
load  between 
them,  and  the 
person  to 
whom  he  ad- 
dressed him- 
self was  Ti- 
tus, who.  wiili 
Stephen,  was 

returning  from  a  fishing  expedition  on  the  lake. 
The  two  were  well  laden  with  the  spoils  of 
their  evening's  work,  and  with  the  fishing  nets, 
yet  at  the  sound  of  the  voice 
they  stopped,  and  moving 
toward  the  spot  where  the 
four  men  stood,  they  per- 
ceived that  the  burden  which 
they  had  been  carrying  was 
one  of  the  light  beds,  or  sleep- 
ing mats,  and  that  upon  it  lay 
the  figure  of  a  man  appar- 
ently helpless. 

"  Thou  seest,"  went  on  the 
f.rst  speaker,  "  that  we  have 
undertaken  to  carry  this 
young  man  to  the  house  of 
Simon  the  fisherman,  for  it  is 
there  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
bideth,  and  we  hope  that  He 
may  be  able  to  heal  him." 
The  man  on  the  pallet  groaned 
audibly.  "  But  one  of  our  bear 
ers  is  an  old  man  and  infirm, 
and  he  hath  not  the  strength  to  proceed  further; 
so  that  we  are  in  a  bad  case,  in  that  we  can  uo 


*If  one  supposed  to  be  a  leper,  and  so  declared  after- 
wards, recovered  from  what  appeared  to  be  leprosy,  he 
must  present  himself  to  the  priest,  go  through  several  cere- 
monies of  purifying  and  cleansing,  offer  sacrifice,  and  i»e 
declared  clean  by  them,  before  he  could  again  mingle  with, 
his  friends.  (See  Lev.  14: 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


21 


neither  forward  nor  back,  unless,  young  man, 
thou  wilt  help  us." 

"  I  will  gladly  help  thee,"  said  Titus.  "  Here, 
Stephen,  canst  take  my  net  and  these  fish?" 

"  I  will  carry  them  for  thee,"  broke  in  the 
quavering  voice  of  the  old  man,  who  had  by  this 
time  somewhat  recovered  himself.  "  And  a 
father's  blessing  be  upon  thee,  if  thou  dost  help 
my  poor  boy  to  find  the  Healer." 

"  O  father,"  groaned  the  sufferer  upon  the  bed, 
"  what  is  the  need  of  it  all?  Hath  not  the  priest 
told  me  over  and  over  again,  that  I  suffer  on  ac- 
count of  my  sins;  and  that  I  must  needs  bear  it, 
for  it  be  laid  upon  me  by  the  Almighty?  Surely 
it  is  unrighteous  to  attempt  to  escape  the 
judgments  of  the  Most  High,  for  thou  knowest 
that  I  am  a  sinner  above  all  men." 

"Ah,  the  Rabbis,  the  Rabbis!"  grumbled  the 
old  man.  "  I  know  that  they  have  told  thee 
that;  but  I  know  thee  that  thou  art  a  good  lad, 
as  lads  go.  None  of  us  be  righteous  altogether, 
and  I  am  thinking  that  were  the  Almighty  so 
minded,  He  could  put  us  all  on  to  our  beds,  and 
justly;  for  we  have  all  gone  astray.  There  is 
not  one  righteous— no,  not  one.  Is  it  not  true, 
lads?" 

The  men  murmured  assent,  while  Titus  felt 
the  blood  rise  guiltily  to  his  face. 

"Come,  come,  now!"  said  one  of  the  bearers 
briskly,  "  'tis  time  that  we  were  getting  along. 
Now  then,  take  hold!  Steady!"  And  the  four 
with  their  burden  set  off  at  a  rapid  pace  down 
the  street,  the  old  man  and  Stephen  following 
with  the  nets. 

"  My  poor  boy!  My  poor  boy!"  murmured  the 
old  man,  as  if  to  himself,  shaking  his  head 
sadly. 

"  Hath  he  been  long  in  this  way?"  asked 
Stephen,  sympathetically. 

"  Since  he  was  eight  years  of  age,"  said  the 
father.  "  He  was  run  over  by  a  Roman  chariot 
—poor  lad!  There  was  some  heathen  festival 
or  other  in  Tiberias— where  we  lived  then,— and 
the  boy  was  minded  to  see  it.  His  mother  bade 
him  stay  at  home,  but  he  scaped  from  her 
notice,  and  the  first  we  knew  of  it,  the  neighbors 
brought  him  to  us  half  dead.  Ah,  'twere  a  pity, 
a  pity!  He  was  a  lusty  lad  ere  he  was  hurt, 
and  never  had  broken  our  commands  before  that 
day.  Since  then  he  hath  lain  constantly  on  his 
bed;  for  someway,  the  hurt  took  all  the  life  and 
feeling  from  his  limbs,  so  that  he  cannot  move 
them.  After  a  wjiile  we  came  to  Capernaum, 
and  his  mother  hath  not  ceased  to  pray  for  his 
recovery.  May  the  Almighty  grant  it,  as  He  did 
the  prayer  of  Hannah!  But  the  Rabbis  will  have 
it  that  he  is  suffering  for  sin;  and  in  a  way  he  is, 
poor  lad,  for  it  is  true  that  he  disobeyed.  But 
we  have  all  gone  astray— all  gone  astray.  And 
he  hatl)  beep  so  patient!  Thou  kpowest,  boy. 


that  David  hath  it  in  one  of  the  Psalms  that 
'  like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord 
pitieth  them  that  fear  Him.'  And  I  know  He 
must  pity  my  poor  patient  lad." 

"  What  was  it  that  thou  didst  say  about  a 
father  pitying  his  children?"  said  Stephen  eag- 
erly. "  Wilt  thou  say  it  to  me  again?" 

The  old  man  repeated  the  verse;  then  said 
somewhat  severely,  "  Dost  thou  not  know  the 
Scriptures,  boy?  At  thy  age  I  could  repeat  the 
Psalms  and  much  of  the  Law." 

"  Nay,  but  my  father  is  a  Greek,  and  I  have 
not  been  taught." 

"  Then  thou  art  a  heathen!"  said  the  old  man, 
slightly  drawing  away  from  the  boy  as  they 
walked.  "  But  thou  art  a  good  lad— I  know  it 
by  thy  face — and  I  am  not  stiff-necked  like  the 
Rabbis.  It  hath  been  reported  that  He  whom 
we  seek  doth  teach  and  heal  all  who  come  to 
Him,  even  publicans  and  sinners." 

"  'Tis  a  true  saying,"  said  Stephen  eagerly. 
"  I  was  a  cripple  and  He  healed  me.  He  did 
not  ask  me  if  I  knew  the  Psalms,  or  the  Law, 
nor  whether  I  went  to  the  synagogue.  I  did  not 
even  ask  Him  to  heal  me — I  was  asking  for  an- 
other. And  dost  think  that  the  Father  who 
pitieth  the  children,  is  the  Father  He  speaks  of 
so  .often?" 

"  Assuredly,"  was  the  answer.  "  He  is  also  the 
God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob." 

"  And  who  are  they?"  asked  Stephen  inno- 
cently. 

"  Oh,  boy,  thou  art  indeed  a  heathen!"  groaned 
the  old  man.  "  Thou  must  go  to  the  synagogue 
and  hear  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures." 

"  I  will  do  that,"  said  Stephen  earnestly. 
"  Thou  knowest  that  I  could  not  till  lately,  for 
I  was  helpless." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  they  saw 
that  the  bearers  had  again  placed  their  burden 
upon  the  ground  and  were  straightening  them- 
selves to  ease  their  aching  backs.  The  old  man 
came  forward  and  stood  beside  the  bed,  looking 
fondly  down  upon  the  wasted  features  of  its 
occupant. 

"  Doth  the  shaking  of  thy  bed  as  they  walk 
hurt  thee,  my  poor  boy?" 

"  Nay,  father;  the  jolting  hurteth  me  not  as 
doth  my  sinful  soul.  He  cannot  heal  me,  I  am 
so  sinful,  so  wicked!  'Twere  better  to  take  mo 
back  and  let  me  die  in  peace." 

"  Dost  thou  see  me?"  said  Stephen  in  his  clear, 
boyish  treble,  kneeling  beside  the  bed.  "  I  am 
a  heathen— thy  father  hath  said  so — yet  He 
healed  me.  He  healed  Philip,  the  blind  man 
whose  eyes  had  been  burned  out— for  what,  I 
know  not— but  he  was  a  sinner.  He  hath  healed 
multitudes,  and  none  of  them  priests,  or  Rabbis, 
or  Pharisees.  He  will  heal  thee.  Thou  dost  not 
know  Him.  He  pitieth  His  childrep  like  the 


22 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS 


Father  in  heaven,  and  He  loveth  them  as  never 
a  mother  loved.  Thou  wilt  see  it,  when  thou 
lookest  into  His  face." 

The  young  man  fixed  his  great,  mournful  eyes 
upon  Stephen,  and  when  he  had  finished  speak- 
ing, he  said: 

"  Who  art  thou?    Art  thou  an  angel?" 

And  indeed,  in  the  moonlight  the  lad  seemed 
not  unlike  one,  as  he  kneeled  by  the  bed,  his 
hands  clasped  in  his  earnestness. 

"Nay,  nay,  lad!  He  is  not  an  angel,"  spoke 
the  cracked  voice  of  the  old  man.  "  He  is  only 
a  little  heathen  lad,  as  he  saith  truly,  for  he 
knoweth  not  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob.  But 
for  all  that  he  is  a  good  lad.  Thou  must  cheer 
up,  for  it  is  true  that  He  hath  healed  greater 
sinners  than  even  thou,  my  poor  child.  Here, 
take  a  swallow  of  this  wine;  it  will  strengthen 


Housetop  or  roof  and  battlements. 

thy  heart."  So  saying,  he  produced  a  small 
gurglet  of  wine  from  his  girdle,  and  proceeded 
to  administer  some  of  it  to  the  invalid. 

Then  all  set  forth  as  before.  They  were  not 
far  from  Simon's  house  now,  and  as  they  ap- 
proached, it  became  evident  that  a  great  crowd 
was  assembled  there,  for  they  met  numerous 
groups  coming  away,  many  of  them  complain- 
ing loudly  fchat  they  could  neither  hear  nor  see.- 

The  old  man  looked  anxious.  "  I  fear  that  we 
cannot  see  Him,  now  that  we  have  come  so  far. 
My  poor  boy!  My  poor  boy!" 

"  Do  not  let  him  hear  thee,"  besought  Stephen, 
laying  a  warning  hand  on  the  old  man's  arm. 
"  Let  us  go  on;  we  shall  surely  find  Him." 

Their  progress  was  now  necessarily  slow,  as 
the  crowd  grew  denser.  Finally  the  four  set 
their  burden  down  for  a  moment  to  rest,  and 
that  they  might  consider  the  situation. 

"  What  hast  thou  there?"  said  a  passer-by;  "  a 
sick  man?"  And  he  looked  over  their  shoulders 
at  the  bed.  "  I  will  tell  thee  something;  'twere 
better  to  take  him  home  again,  and  as  quickly  as 


possible,  for  he  will  not  be  healed  to-night.  The 
Master  hath  healed  no  one.  He  is  in  an  upper 
chamber  in  Simon's  house,  and  is  talking  with 
the  Rabbis,  priests  and  Pharisees,  who  have 
come  from  all  parts,  even  from  Jerusalem,  to 
hear  Him.  Then,  even  if  this  were  not  so,  the 
house  and  every  inch  of  the  garden  is  packed 
solid  with  people;  thou  couldst  not  step  inside 
the  gate  alone— to  say  nothing  of  that  bed!" 
And  without  waiting  to  see  whether  or  not  his 
advice  was  taken,  the  speaker  went  his  way. 

"  Humph!  'Tis  a  sorry  case!"  muttered  one  of 
the  men  who  had  been  helping  to  bear  the  bed. 
"  I  had  not  bargained  to  carry  this  burden  both 
ways." 

"  O  Benjamin,  my  son!  my  son!"  wailed  the  old 
man,  wringing  his  hands  helplessly,  "  I  fear  we 
must  take  thee  home  unhealed!" 

"Stay!"  said  Stephen,  again  coming  forward. 
"  I  know  that  we  can  find  Him  if  we  try.  Titus, 
wilt  thou  not  go  and  see  if  there  be  not  some 
way  to  get  in?" 

Titus  was  gone  in  a  moment,  and  in  a  moment 
more  was  back  again,  flushed  and  panting  with 
exertion.  "  There  is  a  stairway  leading  to  the 
roof,  not  far  from  the  garden  gate,"  said  he. 
"  I  had  thought  that  if  we  could  take  him  up 
there,  we  might  perhaps  tear  up  a  piece  of  the 
tiling,  and  lower  him  into  the  chamber  where 
the  Master  is  talking.  I  can  repair  the  breach 
in  an  hour,  if  one  of  you  will  help  me." 

"  Oh,  Titus!"  exclaimed  Stephen,  "  'tis  a  good 
thought;  let  us  go  at  once." 

"  Stay!"  said  the  old  man.  "  What  right  have 
we  to  injure  our  neighbor's  roof?  Then  too, 
would  it  not  be  a  bold  and  unseemly  thing  thus 
to  disturb  the  Master,  more  especially  if  He  be 
discoursing  to  so  many  learned  men?  God  know- 
eth that  I  desire  that  my  son  should  be  healed, 
but  I  like  not  thy  plan,  young  man;  it  srnacketh 
of  unlawfulness." 

"Oh,  father!"  said  the  sick  man,  with  a  sob, 
"  if  thou  takest  me  back  now,  I  feel  that  I  can 
never  come  again.  This  excitement  hath  so 
wrought  on  me,  that  I  feel  the  springs  of  life 
failing  within  me.  I  pray  thee  try  any  way  that 
will  take  me  to  Him!" 

The  old  man  hesitated. 

Stephen  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  Let  us  try  it,  I 
beg  of  thee!" 

"Well,  well!  Do  thy  best;  I  care  not.  I  will 
recompense  Simon  for  the  roof.  It  will  do  no 
harm  to  make  the  attempt. ' 

Lifting  their  burden,  the  four  once  again 
slowly  advanced  through  the  crowd,  Stephen 
and  the  old  man  going  in  front  this  time,  and 
making  a  way  for  them.  At  length  the  gateway 
was  reached,  then  a  struggle  through  the  dense 
throng  that  filled  every  available  nook  inside  the 
garden.  Finally  the  stairway  was  gained,  and 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


23 


in  a  moment  more  they  were  safely  on  the  roof, 
—where,  strangely  enough,  no  one  from  be- 
low had  hitherto  come.  Now,  however,  divining 
the  purpose  of  the  party  with  the  sick  man, 
the  crowd  began  to  surge  up  the  narrow  stair- 
way. 

"What  art  thou  purposing,  good  friends?" 
called  out  one. 

"  To  tear  up  the  roof,  and  lower  this  sick  man 
into  the  presence  of  the  Master,"  answered 
Titus. 

"  Then  this  is  the  spot  to  remove  the  tiling. 
He  is  in  the  chamber  beneath.  I  will  help  thee," 
said  the  man  who  had  spoken  first. 

And  in  another  moment  a  dozen  willing  hands 
were  at  work.  A  very  short  time  sufficed  to 
make  a  considerable  aperture;  and  through  it 
they  quickly  made  preparations  to  lower  the 
bed  containing  the  sick  man.  As  they  lifted 
him,  he  murmured  in  a  low  tone:  "  Where  is  he 
—the  lad  that  was  healed?" 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Stephen,  coming  forward. 
"  Have  courage!"  he  whispered.  "  I  saw  Him 
through  the  hole  in  the  roof.  He  will  heal  thee." 

"  Now  then— take  a  firm  hold!"  said  Titus: 
and  grasping  the  ropes  which  someone  had 
brought,  and  which  were  firmly  knotted  to  the 
bed,  the  sick  man  was  lowered  carefully  and 
steadily  through  the  opening  till  his  bed  rested 
on  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  There  was  pro- 
found silence  for  a  moment;  those  in  the  cham- 
ber below  startled  by  the  strange  interruption, 
and  those  crowded  about  the  opening  in  the  roof 
breathless  with  anxiety  for  the  success  of  their 
bold  plan. 

The  Master  had  been  sitting  as  He  talked,  but 
now  He  arose,  and,  stooping  over,  gazed  intently 
into  the  face  of  the  sick  man.  In  those  pale, 
pinched  features  and  appealing  eyes,  He  read 
his  whole  pathetic  story.  Laying  His  hand  upon 
him  tenderly,  He  said: 

"  My  child,  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee." 

Instantly  there  arose  a  murmur  in  the  room. 
The  words,  "He  blasphemeth!"  "God  alone 
can  forgive  sins!"  "  God  will  smite  Him!"  came 
from  one  and  another  of  the  bearded  and  tur- 
baned  Rabbis  who  sat  about.  Then  the  Master 
raised  Himself  up,  and  looking  upon  them  with 
the  eye  of  omnipotence,  said  slowly: 

"  What  reason  ye  in  your  hearts?  Whether  is 
easier,  to  say,  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee;  or  to 
say,  Rise  up  and  walk?  But  that  ye  may  know 
that  the  Son  of  man  hath  power  upon  earth  to 
forgive  sins,"— turning  to  the  sick  man—"  I  say 
unto  thee.  Arise,  and  take  up  thy  couch,  and  go 
into  thine  house." 

"  And  immediately  he  rose  up  before  them  all, 
and  took  up  that  whereon  he  lay,  and  departed 
to  his  own  house,  glorifying  God.  And  they 
were  all  amazed,  and  they  glorified  God,  and 


were   filled  with   fear,   saying,   We  have  seen 
strange  things  to-day." 


HE      wor- 
s  h  i  p  fill 
J  a  i  r  u  s, 
ruler      o  f 
the    synagogue* 
in     Capernaum, 
had     just     com- 
pleted a  careful 
inspection  of  the 
various   gardens 
connected     with 
his  house.    He  was  a 
rich  man,  as  well  as 
ruler     of     the     syna- 
gogue;   it    was   there- 
fore    meet     that     all 
things  connected  with 
his  domain  should  be  done 
decently  and  in  order.    He 
had    been    making   remarks 
somewhat   to   this  effect    to 
the  servant   who   filled   the 
office    of    chief    steward    in 
his  house,  and  the  man  still 
stood  in  his  presence. 

"  I  am  not  pleased  with 
the  condition  of  the  gardens 
connected  with  the  inner  house,  Benoni,"  he 
said  somewhat  severely.  "  I  saw  many  with- 
ered leaves  on  the  turf,  and  the  shrubbery  hath 
not  received  the  attention  which  it  should  have. 
It  is  evident  that  there  is  fault  somewhere." 

"  If  I  might  venture  the  suggestion,  most  noble 
master,  I  would  say  that  it  would  be  well  to  em- 
ploy another  servant.  I  can  buy,  if  it  please 
thee,  a  slave,  or  for  a  small  sum  hire  some 
lad  from  the  city.  For  truly  the  new  vineyard 
doth  require  much  time  and  attention,  and  I 
have  therefore  been  unable  to  look  to,  the  home 
gardens  as  I  ought.  It  is  not  that  the  servants 
are  idle,  or  that  I  "—and  here  the  man  made  a 
low  obeisance—"  am  neglectful  of  my  duty." 

"  Thou  hast  answered  well,  Benoni;  the  matter 
of  the  new  vineyard  had  entirely  escaped  my 
memory.  Seek  out  now  a  lad,  and  let  it  be  his 
duty  to  attend  the  gardens,  that  I  be  not  further 
vexed  with  the  matter.  And  stay!— be  cautious 
in  the  matter  of  selecting  the  lad,  for  the  little 
Ruth  doth  often  play  in  the  gardens,  albeit  at- 
tended by  her  maidens,  and  I  would  not  that 
the  boy  be  rough  or  discourteous." 


*ii)ach  synagogue  had  a  council  of  influential  men  who 
directed  its  affairs.  The  president  of  this  council  was 
called  the  Ruler,  or  Chief  Ruler, 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


"  Thy  commands,  most  worshipful  master, 
shall  be  obeyed;  and  I  thank  thee  for  thy  good- 
ness and  forbearance  to  me  in  the  matter." 

So  saying,  the  steward  withdrew  and  at  once 
made  his  way  to  the  nearest  market-place.  Hero 
he  proceeded  to  make  known  the  fact  that  he, 
Benoni,  would  engage  the  services  of  a  likeiy 
lad  in  behalf  of  his  master  the  worshipful 
Jairus.  A  number  of  lads  who  were  idling  about 
the  place  eagerly  gathered  about  him,  but  the 
keen  eye  of  the  chief  steward  quickly  pro- 
nounced them,  one  and  all,  unfit  for  the  position. 

Now  it  happened  that  Stephen  and  Titus  were 
at  one  of  the  numerous  stalls,  bartering  some 
fish  which  they  had  taken  that  morning  before 
dawn,  Titus  as  usual  managing  the  business, 
while  Stephen  stood  by,  looking  dreamily  at  the 
lively  scene  about  him;  the  world,  to  which 
he  had  been  so  long  a  stranger,  present- 
ing to  his  happy  eyes  a  constantly  shifting 
kaleidoscope  of  wonderful  pictures.  This  morn- 
ing he  saw  at  once  the  imposing  figure  of 
Benoni  as  he  entered  the  market-place,  and  fol- 
lowed his  subsequent  proceedings  with  an  inter- 
ested eye.  Just  as  Titus  had  finished  the  bar- 
gaining to  his  satisfaction,  he  caught  an  excited 
whisper  from  Stephen. 

"  That  man  yonder  looketh  for  a  lad  to  hire! 
Why  dost  thou  not  speak  with  him?  Then 
mightest  thou  be  safe  from  father  and  the  men." 

Titus  looked  in  the  direction  to  which  Stephen 
pointed,  then  said:  "  The  man  is  a  Jew.  I  care 
not  to  hire  with  him." 

"  Nay,  Titus,  now  thou  art  foolish.  Come! 
Wilt  thou  not  speak  with  him?" 

In  another  moment  the  two  lads  were  in  the 
presence  of  Benoni. 

"  I  heard  thee,  that  thou  didst  inquh'e  for  a 
lad,"  said  Stephen  hesitatingly,  seeing  that  Titus 
did  not  intend  to  speak. 

"  Thou  didst  hear  aright."  answered  Benoni 
with  condescension.  "  But  thou  art  too  young.  I 
require  a  sturdy  lad,  more  like  to  this  one,"— 
glancing,  as  he  spoke,  at  Titus—"  to  work  in  the 
gardens  of  the  house  of  the  worshipful  Jairus."' 

"What  work  wouldst  thou  require?"  asked 
Titus,  who  had  always  had  a  curiosity  to  see  the 
interior  of  one  of  the  great  houses,  so  jealously 
guarded  by  their  high  walls  from  the  public 
eye,  and  which  had  often  been  described  to  the 
two  lads  by  Prisca. 

"  The  work  will  be,  as  I  said,  in  and  about  the 
gardens— keeping  the  graveled  paths  in  order, 
and  the  turf  fr^e  from  weeds  and  unsightly  rub- 
bish." 

"  I  think  I  could  do  that."  said  Titus  in  a  low 
voice — for  he  inwardly  revolted  at  the  idea  of 
service  of  any  kind. 

Benoni,  however,  convinced  that  his  hesitation 
was  due  solely  to  modesty,  and  withal  satisfied 


with  the  young  man's  general  appearance,  after 
a  few  more  perfunctory  questions,  quickly  con- 
cluded the  bargain,  stipulating  that  Titus  should 
accompany  him  at  once,  and  be  introduced  to 
his  new  work. 

When  Stephen  was  left  alone,  he  stood  gazing 
after  the  two,  and  a  desolate  feeling  of  loneli- 
ness almost  overcame  him  for  the  moment.  He 
suddenly  realized  that  all  the  delightful  hours 
on  the  lake  with  Titus,  all  the  long  rambles,  and 
the  pleasant  evening  talks  on  the  housetop,  were 
over 

"  Why  did  I  ever  see  that  man!"  he  murmured 
disconsolately,  feeling  a  strong  desire  to  run 
after  Titus  and  beg  of  him  to  stay. 

But  in  a  moment  he  straightened  himself.  "  I 
am  glad  he  hath  gone,"  he  thought.  "  It  will  be 
best.  As  for  me,  I  must  learn  to  manage  the 
boat  alone;  I  am  nearly  fifteen  now  and  strong 
enough.  Mother  needeth  me;  I  must  work  for 
her."  And  he  started  out  for  home  at  a  brisk 
pace  to  acquaint  his  mother  with  the  occurrences 
of  the  morning. 

Meanwhile  Titus  and  Benoni  had  reached  the 
house  of  Jairus.  It  was  an  imposing  structure 
occupying  a  whole  square,  but  presenting  to  the 
street  on  all  sides,  facades  of  massive  rough- 
hewn  stone,  windowless  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  broken  only  by  a  single  entrance  on  each 
of  its  four  sides.  From  the  second  story  pro- 
jected certain  high  and  wide  windows  filled  with 
the  curious  lattice-work  which  is  to  be  seen  in 
Eastern  houses  to  this  day. 

Being  admitted  to  one  of  the  strongly-guarded 
portals,  Titus  and  his  guide  found  themselves 
in  an  arched  passage-way  of  stone;  quickly 
traversing  this,  they  proceeded  into  a  courtyard, 
which  Titus — having  in  mind  the  description  of 
Prisca— perceived  to  be  the  court  of  the  houso- 
hold;  for  here  was  the  great  central  fountain, 
there  were  the  stalls  for  the  horses  and  nniles, 
and  on  the  opposite  side  the  appurtenances  for 
various  kinds  of  work  connected  with  the  estab- 
lishment—the bake  ovens,  and  the  grindstones 
in  noisy  operation,  being  most  in  evidence.  It 
was  an  animated  scene,  and  everyone  seemed  to 
be  in  the  highest  spirits,  for  the  men  were  laugh- 
ing and  talking  as  they  groomed  the  horses, 
while  the  maidens  about  the  fountain  chattered 
as  gayly  and  incessantly  as  the  sparrows  which 
were  nesting  in  the  cornice. 

As  the  two  entered,  all  eyes  were  turned  at 
once  upon  them,  and  one  damsel,  bolder  thai? 
the  rest,  came  forward,  and  dropping  a  courtesy 
said  saucily: 

"  And  here  is  our  good  Benoni.  looking  none 
the  worse  for  the  interview  which  he  had  with 
the  master  this  morning!  My  mistress  bade  me 
tell  thee  that  she  wished  to  speak  with  thee 
immediately  upon  thy  return.  Pidst  thou  know 


T1WS,  A  COMitADE  OF  THE  CftOSS. 


that  we  are  going  up  to  Jerusalem,  the  next 
week  but  one?  'Tis  the  Feast.*  I  am  glad,  for 
my  part;  Jerusalem  at  Feast  times  hath  a  gayety 


Before  many  days  had  passed  Titus  found 
that  Marissa  had  spoken  truly.  His  work  was 
light  and  pleasant,  and  his  beauty-loving  eyes 


which  refresheth  my  spirit  after  our  dull  Caper-    were  never  tired  of  looking  at  the  wonders  about 


naum. 

"  Peace,  maiden!"  said  Benoni  severely.  "  Thy 
tongue  hath  the  sound  of  waters  which  run  and 
never  cease.  But  now  wilt  thou  see  that  this 
lad  hath  some  refreshment,  while  I  wait  upon 
our  worshipful  lady?  I  will  return  for  thee 
shortly  "—turning  to  Titus — "  that  thou  mayst 
get  to  thy  work  without  delay." 

The  damsel,  who  was  called  Marissa,  laughed 
mockingly.  "  It  would  be  well,  good  Benoni, 
ere  our  worshipful 
master  return  from 
the  synagogue.  At 
least  fourscore  more 
of  dried  leaves  have 
fallen  from  the 
shrubbery  since  thou 
didst  go  forth  this 
morning." 

But  Benoni  was  al- 
ready gone,  appar- 
ently not  hearing  the 
last  remark. 

As  soon  as  he  had 
disappeared,  the  girl 
turned  to  Titus,  and 
with  an  approving 
glance  at  his  stal- 
wart ti  g  u  r  e  and 
handsome  face,  said: 

"  Every  time  tho 
master  findeth  fault 
with  our  good  Benoni 
yonder,  he  doth  mend 
the  matter  by  hiring 
a  new  servant.  I 
heard  the  whole  talk 


him.  On  several  occasions  he  had  seen  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house  in  her  sweeping  robes  travers- 
ing the  terraces;  and  every  day  the  little  Ruth, 
a  pretty  child  of  twelve,  played  about  the  shady 
garden  paths.  But  best  of  all,  Benoni,  finding 
that  he  was  skillful  with  boat  and  net,  allowed 
him  to  supply  the  household  with  fish.  Stephen 
invariably  joined  him  in  these  expeditions,  and 
the  two  spent  many  delightful  hours  together. 
"  I  shall  not  see  thee  again  for  many  days," 


Jerusalem  as  it  appears  to-day. 


this  morning  from  the  terrace  where  I  was  sew- 
ing. Thou  art  to  pick  off  the  yellow  leaves  from 
the  shrubs;  it  will  require  all  thy  strength!" 
And  again  the  girl  laughed  teasingly. 

"  Nay,  I  am  to  attend  to  the  graveled  walks, 
and  care  for  the  turf,"  spoke  Titus  with  an 
angry  flush. 

"  Do  not  be  angry,"  said  the  girl.  "  Thou 
shouldst  be  glad  in  these  times  to  have  fallen 
into  such  a  comfortable  place;  plenty  would  give 
their  eyes  for  it.  And  Benoni  is  a  good  master, 
as  thou  wilt  see,  albeit  a  little  stupid.  But  come, 
let  me  show  thee  the  place,  and  give  thee  to  eat, 
as  I  was  bidden." 

*A  sort  of  holiday  occasion  commemorating  some  im- 
portant event  in  Jewish  history.  Three  times  each  year 
every  man  and  boy  over  thirteen  years  were  to  go  to  Jerusa- 
lem to  appear  before  the  Lord  in  the  Temple,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  one  of  these  feasts.  The  women  and  girls  were  not 
obliged  to  go,  but  might  do  so. 


said  Titus  on  one  of  these  occasions,  as  he 
pushed  off  the  boat  from  the  shore.  "  Benoni 
told  me  this  morning  that  the  family  start  to- 
morrow for  Jerusalem.  Many  of  the  household 
will  attend  them.  As  for  me,  I  have  been  chosen 
to  lead  the  mule  on  which  the  little  Ruth  is  to 
ride.  Marissa  saith  that  in  Jerusalem  we  shall 
stop  at  the  palace  of  the  High  Priest,  for  the 
lady  Sara,  our  mistress,  is  sister  to  the  wife  of 
Caiaphas." 

"  Thou  wilt  see  wondrous  things,"  said 
Stephen,  somewhat  wistfully,  but  without  a 
trace  of  envy  in  his  face.  "  I  am  glad  that  1 
have  learned  to  manage  the  boat  now;  I  shall 
go  out  every  day  whilst  thou  art  away." 

"  Thou  dost  very  well  with  the  boat,  lad," 
said  Titus,  somewhat  patronizingly.  "  But  thou 
must  beware  of  squalls;  they  come  so  suddenly, 
that  cooler  heads  and  stronger  arms  than  thine 


26 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


have  gone  down  ere  this.  Do  not  go  out  unless 
the  wind  sets  in  the  right  quarter,  as  I  showed 
thee;  and  never  alone  at  night.  The  hour  of  the 
dawning  will  be  best  for  thee." 

"  The  Master  and  His  disciples,  with  many 
others,  have  already  set  forth  for  Jerusalem," 
said  Stephen  presently.  Then  after  a  pause  he 
continued:  "Thou  knowest  the  man  Benjamin, 
who  was  palsied,  and  whom  the  Master  healed 
so  marvelously.  He  hath  not  forgotten  ,us.  I 
met  him  not  many  days  since,  as  I  was  coming 
from  the  synagogue,  and  he  took  me  with  him 
to  his  home.  He  is  going  to  teach  me  how  to 
read  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  so  that  I  shall 
no  longer  be  a  heathen,  as  his  father  did  call 
me.  He  hath  given  me  a  roll*  that  he  himself 
did  study  when  he  was  my  age — albeit  he  studied 
lying  helpless  on  his  bed.  And  he  taught  me  a 
Psalm.  Shall  I  say  it  to  thee?" 

Titus  assented,  and  the  lad  repeated  to  the 
musical  accompaniment  of  the  water  rippling 
along  the  side  of  the  boat: 

"  '  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd;  I  shall  not  want. 
He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures; 
He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters.  He  restor- 
eth  my  soul;  He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of 
righteousness,  for  His  name's  sake.  Yea,  though 
I   walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil:  for  thou  art  with  me; 
thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they 
comfort  me.      Thou  prepar- 
est  a  table  before  me  in  the 
presence   of   mine   enemies; 
thou     anointest     my     head 
with   oil;   my    cup   runneth 
over.    Surely   goodness  and 
mercy   shall   follow   me   all 
the  days  of  my  life;  and  I 
will  dwell   in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  for  ever.' 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful!"  said 
Stephen  softly.  "  And  there 
are  many  more.  I  shall 
learn  them  all.  Benjamin 
saith  that  I  must  learn  the 
Law  also.  But  that  I  like  not  so  well;  there  are 
so  many  '  Thou  shalt  not's,'  that  it  quite  bewil- 
dereth  me  to  hear  them  read;  and  I  know  not 
how  I  could  observe  them  all." 

"  Thou  wilt  be  a  Pharisee  yet,"  said  Titus, 
half  bitterly.  "  I  fancy  I  see  thee  now  with  a 
long  robe,  and  a  big  phylactery**  bound  to  thy 
brow." 

"  Nay,"  answered  Stephen  simply.  "  I  would 
rather  follow  the  Master.  He  wears  no  phylac- 
tery; and  I  am  sure  that  He  is  not  a  Pharisee." 

*A  book.  Books  were  written  upon  long  strips  of  parch- 
ment or  other  flexible  material  rolled  upon  a  stick  as  a 
map  is  rolled.  The  reader  unrolled  the  book  to  tbe  place 
he  wanted  to  read,  and  rolled  it  up  again  when  through. 


"  Dost  thou  know,  Stephen,"  said  Titus  pres- 
ently, after  the  two  had  lowered  their  net,  "  that 
that  psalm,  as  thou  callest  it,  soundeth  strangely 
familiar  in  mine  ears,  like  something  I  have 
heard  many  times,  and  forgotten.  And  the  house 
of  Jairus— it  is  certain  that  I  have  seen  some- 
thing like  it— in  a  dream." 

"  Thou  hast  heard  the  mother  tell  of  the  great 
house  in  which  she  lived  as  a  maiden;  'tis  of 
that  thou  hast  dreamed,  my  Titus." 

"  But  the  psalm!"  persisted  Titus.  "  Did  the 
mother  sing  it  in  this  way?"  And  he  began  a 
low  metrical  chanting  of  the  words  which 
Stephen  had  recited.  But  he  broke  off  abruptly 
after  a  few  lines,  saying:  "  It  hath  gone  from 
me,  now,"  then  relapsed  into  silence,  which  ho 
seemed  not  disposed  to  break;  though  Stephen 
talked  gayly  on,  apparently  unmindful  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  a  very  indifferent,  listener. 


CHAPTER  XL 

HOUGH  the  dawn  was  yet  so 
young  that  a  few  stars  lin- 
gered  in  the  heavens,  the 
great  courtyard  in  the  house  of 
Jairus  was  a  scene  of  the  liveliest 
confusion.  Servants  were  flying 
hither  and  thither,  and  men  shout- 
ing to  each  other  as  they  led  forth 
the  mules  and  prepared  to  load 
them  with  the  baggage  of  various  sorts  which 
was  already  lying  in  great  piles  on  the  pave- 
ment. In  the  midst  of  the  court  stood  Benoui, 
directing  one  here,  cautioning  another  there, 
and  keeping  a  calm  and  dignified  mien,  as  was 
his  wont  on  all  occasions,  however  trying.  As 
the  beasts  of  burden  were  loaded,  one  after  an- 
other was  led  out  into  the  street  and  stood  wait- 
ing in  a  long  line. 

"  And  now  bring  forth  the  master's  horse,  to- 
gether with  the  mules,  and  quickly!  For  time 
doth  fly,  and  we  must  accomplish  the  first  stage 
of  our  journey  before  the  heat  of  the  day  be- 
gins." 

At  this  command  there  issued  from  his  stall 
an  Arabian  horse,  showing  in  his  full,  dark  eyes, 
small  head,  and  slender,  clean-cut  limbs,  all  his 
pride  of  birth.  After  the  Arabian  came  a  num- 
ber of  large,  sleek  mules,  with  luxurious  ac- 


**Little  rolls  of  parchment  on  which  were  written  verses 
from  the  scriptures.  They  were  enclosed  in  small  boxes 
provided  with  long  leather  straps  for  fastening,  and  were 
worn  upon  the  forehead  and  left  arm  during  prayers.  The 
Pharisees  made  their  phylacteries  large  so  as  to  attract 
attentioa 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


27 


\coutremonts;  each  led  by  a  groom.  Benoni  had 
'already  left  the  courtyard  for  the  purpose  of 
informing  his  master  that  all  was  ready  for 
a  start,  and  he  now  hurried  forth  again,  fol- 
lowed in  more  leisurely  fashion  by  Jairus,  his 
wife — the  noble  Sara— and  their  little  daughter, 
Ruth,  with  several  maids  laden  with  wraps  of 
various  kinds. 

"I  am  so  glad  that 'we  are  going  at  last!" 
cried  Ruth  joyously,  bounding  ahead  of  the  rest 
of  the  party.  "  And  there  is  my  dear  old  Bekah! 
Ah,  I  believe  you  know  me,  you  darling!"— 
caressing,  as  she  spoke,  the  nose  of  a  snow- 
white  mule,  which  stood  a  little  apart  from  the 
others. 

"  Wait,  darling,"  said  the  soft  voice  of  her 
mother.  "  Let  Beuoni  lift  thee  to  the  saddle." 

But  the  strong  arm  of  Titus  had  already 
snugly  eusconced  the  little  damsel  in  her  place. 

"  Titus  can  do  it  quite  as  well  as  Benoni,  as 
thou  seest,  my  mother,"  said  Ruth  gayly.  "  I 
am  so  glad  that  thou  art  to  lead  my  Bekah!'' 
she  continued,  patting  the  glossy  neck  of  the 
animal,  "  because  I  can  talk  to  thee  as  we 
journey.  Last  time  I  had  old  Asa,  and  he  was 
too  deaf  to  hear  me,  even  had  I  cared  to  talk 
with  him." 

Titus  showed  his  white  teeth  in  an  apprecia- 
tive smile,  but  said  nothing.  Truth  to  tell  he 
stood  somewhat  in  awe  of  the  imperious  little 
maiden,  who,  with  her  deep  hazel  eyes  and 
golden  hair,  seemed  a  being  set  apart  from  the 
rest  of  the  world. 

At  last  all  were  settled  to  their  satisfaction, 
and  one  after  another  moved  slowly  out  from 
the  great  gateway,  now  thrown  wide  open. 
Benoni  wiped  his  heated  face,  and  paused  for  a 
few  last  words  of  warning  and  advice  to  the 
uuder-steward,  who  was  to  be  left  in  charge  of 
the  house  during  his  absence;  but  he  too  finally 
jumped  into  his  saddle  and  clattered  rapidly 
down  the  street  after  the  procession,  which  was 
already  well  under  way. 

Ruth  rode  behind  her  mother,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  Marissa;  while  Jarius,  with  a  number 
of  heavily-armed  men-servants,  traveled  in 
front.  The  beasts  of  burden,  laden  with  rich 
offerings  for  the  Feast,  and  with  the  tents,  cook- 
ing utensils,  and  other  things  needful  for  the 
journey,  each  under  the  charge  of  a  man, 
brought  up  the  rear. 

The  city  was  already  stirring,  early  as  it  was, 
and  the  procession,  as  it  wound  through  the 
streets  and  squares,  attracted  much  attention. 
The  wife  of  Jairus  drew  her  white  veil  more 
closely  about  her  face,  and  bade  her  daughter 
do  the  same.  The  little  maiden  obeyed,  but  her 
bright  eyes  peeping  out  from  the  gauzy  folds 
were  intent  on  losing  nothing  of  the  lively 
scenes  about. 


Presently,  to  his  surprise,  Titus  spied  Stephen, 
his  fishing  nets  on  his  shoulder,  waiting,  like  the 
others,  to  see  the  cavalcade  pass.  On  beholding 
Titus,  his  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  hold- 
ing up  a  string  of  fish,  that  their  size  and  num- 
ber might  be  appreciated,  he  shouted: 

"  Farewell;  and  may  the  gods  protect  thee!" 

"Who  is  that  lad?"  asked  Ruth  curiously. 
"  And  why  doth  he  say,  '  May  the  gods  protect 
thee,'  as  if  there  were  several?" 

"  'Tis  my  brother  Stephen,"  answered  Titus. 
"  And  he  saith  '  gods,'  because  he  hath  been 
accustomed  to  hear  it  from  his  youth.  Wre  are 
of  Greek  parentage." 

"  Nay,  thou  lookest  not  like  a  Greek;  I  have 
seen  many  of  them,"  said  the  little  girl.  "  Thou 
art  a  Jew,  by  thy  features;  thou  art  exactly  like 
someone  I  know,  but  who  it  is  I  cannot  remem- 
ber. But  tell  me  of  this  brother  of  thine — 
Stephen,  thou  didst  call  him." 

"  I  can  tell  thee  something  wonderful  about 
him,"  said  Titus.  "  He  was  a  cripple,  and 
could  not  walk;  and  the  Healer — Jesus — cured 
him,  so  that  he  is,  as  thou  didst  see,  a  strong 
lad,  albeit  of  a  delicate  and  beautiful  counten- 
ance— at  least,"  added  Titus  modestly,  "  he  doth 
so  seem  to  me." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Ruth,  somewhat  impa- 
tient at  the  digression.  "  But  was  he  really 
healed,  so  that  he  can  walk?  Tell  me  all  about 
it— every  thing." 

Thus  commanded,  Titus  told,  with  as  much  of 
detail  as  he  was  able,  the  story  of  the  baby  and 
Stephen,  Ruth  interrupting  him  at  intervals 
with  questions. 

"Ah!"  said  she,  drawing  a  long  breath  of 
pleasure,  when  he  had  finished,  "  I  like  that 
story!  And  the  best  of  it  is,  that  it  is  all  true. 
I  too  have  seen  the  Nazarene,"  she  continued 
thoughtfully  after  a  pause.  "  I  think  Him  the 
most  wonderful,  the  most  beautiful,  the  best 
Man  in  the  whole  world!  I  have  always  wished 
to  talk  with  Him,  but  my  mother  says  that  we 
cannot,  for  He  is  ever  surrounded  with  a  great 
crowd  of  poor  people." 

They  had  now  passed  out  of  the  city  and  had 
begun  the  ascent  of  one  of  the  high  steep  hills 
which  shut  in  on  every  side  the  beautiful  little 
lake  of  Gennesaret,  as  it  was  sometimes  called. 
The  way  became  difficult  and  stony,  so  that 
Titus  was  kept  busy  picking  the  best  places  for 
the  mule.  The  wife  of  Jairus  glanced  back  sev- 
eral times  to  see  that  her  darling  was  safe  and 
that  the  lad  was  sufficiently  careful,  and  every 
time  caught  a  bright  smile  from  the  little  girl. 

"  The  precious  one!"  the  mother  murmured 
happily  to  herself.  "  She  hath  a  smile  like  to 
the  sunlight." 

After  a  hard  climb  of  about  an  hour,  the  top 

f  the  ascent  was  reached,  and  all  paused  for  a 


\ 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


few  moments  to  rest.  The  sun  was  up  now,  and 
the  scene  spread  out  before  the  travelers  was 
one  of  marvelous  beauty.  Hundreds  of  feet  be- 
neath them  lay  the  silver  expanse  of  the  lake, 
studded  with  sails;  while  on  every  side  the  hills, 
covered  with  luxuriant  foliage  and  dotted  with 
villages,  rose  higher  and  higher,  till  in  the  far 
distance  gleamed  the  snowy  head  of  Mount 
Hermon. 

"  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from 
whence  cometh  my  help!"  murmured  the  lady 
Sara  softly,  as  she  looked. 

The  days  that  followed  were  full  of  delight  10 
Titus.  To  his  sturdy  frame  the  easy  stages  of 
the  journey  caused  no  fatigue,  while  the  ever- 
changing  scenery,  the  picturesque  evening  en- 
campments, and  the  growing  friendliness  of  tin; 
little  Ruth,  brought  a  happiness  such  as  he  had 
never  known  before.  All  that  had  embittered 
his  young  life  lay  far  behind  now,  and  his  soul 
responded  strongly  to  the  new,  sweet  influences 
which  surrounded  him. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  the  journey,  it  became 
evident  that  they  were  approaching  the  Holy 
City,  for  the  bauds  of  pilgrims,  together  with 
flocks  of  sheep  and  oxen  for  sacrifice  and  feast- 
ing—which they  had  met  occasionally  during 
the  whole  course  of  their  journey— became  more 
and  more  frequent.  Many  of  these  pilgrim 
bands  were  singing  while  they  marched  along, 
and  fragments  of  their  song  floated  back  on  tho 
wind,  as  they  defiled  through  the  narrow  val- 
leys: 

"  Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  O 
Jerusalem;  whither  the  tribes  go  up,  the  tribes 
of  the  Lord,  to  give  thanksgiving  unto  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  Pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem; 
they  shall  prosper  that  love  thee;  peace  be  with- 
in thy  walls,  and  prosperity  within  thy  palaces." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

&TELL  thee  that  the  time  for  look- 
ing lightly  on  this  thing  hath 
passed,  for  this  Man  doth  con- 
tinually blaspheme  the  name  of 
the  Almighty." 

The  speaker  was  Caiaphas.  As 
he  spoke,  he  was  striding  impa- 
tiently up  and  down  one  of  the 
roof  terraces  of  his  house,  while 
Jairus,  his  guest,  half  reclined 
upon  a  marble  bench  near  it 
hand.  The  two  sisters  sat  at  a  little  distance, 
placidly  happy  in  each  other's  society,  an'l 
Ruth,  leaning  both  elbows  upon  the  parapet, 
gazed  with  wide,  childish  eyes  upon  the  wonder- 


ful panorama  of  the  Holy  City  spread  out  be- 
neath her. 

"  Thou  didst  hear  this  Jesus  to-day,  when  He 
was  questioned  concerning  the  so-called  healing 
of  the  impotent  man  at  Bethesda.  '  God  judg- 
eth  no  man.'  He  said,  'but  hath  committed  all 
judgment  unto  the  Son,' — meaning  Himself.  AnJ 
further,  '  That  all  men  should  honor  the  Son 
even  as  they  honor  the  Father.'  'Even  as'! — 
didst  note  the  words?  Then  He  went  on  to 
speak  of  John— who  is  justly  shut  up,  fci1  I  be- 


lieve that  he  was  beside  him- 
self. '  There  is  another,'  He 
said,  '  that  beareth  witness  of 
me,  and  I  know  that  the  wit- 
ness which  he  witnesseth  of 
me  is  true.'  " 

"  He  said  those  words,"  re- 
plied Jairus,  who  had  listened 
in  silence  up  to  this  point, 
"  but  there  was  another  thing 
also  which  He  said,  and 
which  I  have  not  forgotten;  'twas  this:  'But 
I  have  greater  witness  than  that  of  John;  for 
the  works  which  the  Father  hath  given  me 
to  finish,  the  same  works  that  I  do,  bear 
witness  of  me,  that  the  Father  hath  sent 
me.'  Thou  dost  in  thine  accusation  of  the  Man 
singularly  overlook  the  works  of  healing, 
assuredly  great  and  marvelous,  which  He  con- 
tinueth  daily  to  perform.  What  canst  thou  say 
to  such  a  cure  as  that  of  the  man  who,  as  thou 
knowest,  on  reputable  testimony,  had  lain  on 
his  bed  helpless  for  thirty  and  eight  years? 
With  a  word  the  Nazarene  restored  him  per- 
fectly." 
"Aye,  but  mark  the  word!"  said  Caiaphas 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


29 


with  heat.  "  It  was  the  Sabbath  day,  and  He 
said  unto  him,  '  Rise,  take  up  thy  bed  and 
walk.'  In  that  He  both  healed  him,  and  bade 
him  take  up  and  carry  his  bed,  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  He  hath  done  that  which  is  unlawful.  He 
is  therefore  guilty  of  blasphemy  and  also  of 
profaning  the  law  of  the  Most  High;  and  thou 
knowest  the  penalty  of  such  misdeeds,"  he 
added  darkly. 

Neither  of  the  men  noticed  that  the  little  Ruth 
had  turned  about  and  was  listening  with  an 
anxious  face  to  the  discussion,  until  she  sud- 
denly startled 
them  both 
with  the  ques- 
tion: 

"  Dost  thou 
speak  of  Je- 
sus of  Naza- 
reth, Uncle 
Joseph  ?" 

"Why  dost 
thou  ask, 
my  child?" 
said  Caiaphas 
gently,  paus- 
i  n  g  in  his 
walk  t  o  lay 
his  hand 
cares  singly 
upon  her 
golden  hair. 

"I  know 
Him  too,  and 
have  seen 
Him.  If  He 
is  the  Son  of 
God,  as  He 
doth  declare, 
would  He  not 
have  the  right 


"Dost  thou  speak  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  Uncle  Joseph?'1'' 


"  My  darling,"  said  her  mother  softly,  "  it  is 
not  seemly  for  a  babe  like  thee  to  discuss  this 
matter  with  thine  uncle,  more  especially  as  he 
doth  hold  the  sacred  office  of  High  Priest  in 
God's  holy  Temple.  Thou  must  come  with  me 
now,  that  thou  mayst  grow  calm  before  the 
time  to  sleep." 

So  saying,  the  two  women  went  away  with 
the  child,  who  was  now  weeping  softly.  As  the 
sound  of  their  trailing  garments  ceased  upon  the 
stairway,  Jairus  turned  to  Caiaphas,  who  was 
gazing  silently  towards  the  Temple,  whose 

walls  and 
towers  glowed 
with  rosy  and 
golden  reflec.- 
tions  in  the 
last  rays  o  f 
the  setting 
sun,  and  said 
solemnly: 

"To  my 
mind  my 
brother,  this  is 
a  time  of  great 
r  e  sponsibility 
to  the  heads  of 
the  nation.  If 
the  child 
spoke  truly— 
as  I  myself 
b  e  li  eve  — 
'twere  assur- 
edly an  awful 
thing  to  reject 
God's  Anoint- 
ed." 

Caiaphas  re- 
mained silent 
for  a  moment, 
then  he 


to  heal  on  the  Sabbath  day, which  is  God's  day?" 
"  The     child     speaketh     well,"     said     Jairus 
proudly.    "  I  would  have  asked  thee  that  ques- 
tion myself." 

"  And  I  should  have  answered  thee  that  His 
pretensions  are,  as  I  have  said  before,  blas- 
phemous. We  know  that  this  Man  is  the  son  of 
a  common  carpenter— nay,  more;  He  is  Himself 
a  common  carpenter,  and  hath  followed  the 
trade,  working  with  His  hands  until  lately;  His 
home  is  in  Nazareth;  and  can  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  Nazareth?" 

"  But,  Uncle  Joseph,"  persisted  the  little 
damsel,  her  face  flushing,  and  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears,  "  how  could  He  do  the  wonderful 
things  that  He  doeth,  unless  God  be  with  Him? 
I  love  Him!"  she  continued  passionately,  with- 
out waiting  his  answer,  "  and  I  believe  that  He 
is,  as  He  hath  said,  the  Son  of  God." 


turned   slowly   and   looked  at  Jairus. 

"  Thou  art  a  good  man,  and  my  brother;  it 
were  well  for  us  not  to  talk  of  this  matter 
further,  lest  it  make  between  us  a  breach  which 
cannot  be  healed.  I  will  tell  thee  plainly,  once 
and  for  all,  that  my  mind  is  made  up  about 
this  Man.  He  must  die;  for  'twere  better  for  one 
to  die  than  for  many  to  perish."  But  even  as 
he  spoke  the  prophetic  words,  he  shuddered 
slightly  and  glanced  up  towards  the  heavens. 

In  the  meantime,  in  one  of  the  great  shadowy 
chambers  of  the  palace,  the  two  women,  having 
dismissed  the  maid,  were  putting  the  little  Ruth 
to  bed.  The  child,  kneeling  at  her  mother's 
knee,  had  repeated  her  psalms  and  prayers; 
and  now  she  was  resting  snugly  in  the  stately 
bed,  with  its  carven  posts  and  drapery  and 
coverlid  of  purple,  'broidered  with  gold. 

"  And  now,  my  mother,  wilt  thou  tell  me  a 


30 


TITUS,  A  COMBADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


story?"  she  pleaded.  "Tell  me  of  David  and 
Goliath." 

And  the  mother  told  the  story,  so  familiar  from 
her  youth  that  she  repeated  it  in  the  language 
of  the  Scripture  itself. 

"  I  have  always  liked  that  story,"  said  Ruth 
enthusiastically  when  she  had  finished.  "  How 
I  should  like  to  have  seen  David  when  he  stood 
up  on  the  body  of  the  giant  Philistine,  an'l 
grasped  his  great  sword  to  cut  off  his  wicked 
old  head."  She  paused  a  moment,  as  if  pictur- 
ing the  scene  to  herself,  then  she  added  eagerly: 
"  I  think,  my  mother,  that  David  must  have 
looked  exactly  like  my  Titus." 

"  How  canst  thou  say  that,  my  child  ?  Thou 
knowest  that  thy  Titus,  as  thou  callest  him,  is  a 
Greek." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  little  girl  positively,  "  I  told 
him  that  could  not  be,  for  he  hath  the  face  of  a 
Jew.  Hath  he  not  now— with  his  dark  skin,  his 
eagle  nose,  and  those  great,  flashing  eyes  of 
his?  He  hath  a  countenance  like — yes,  I  know 
it  now— like  to  my  Uncle  Joseph's!"— half  rising, 
as  she  spoke,  in  her  excitement. 

"  My  child,  my  child!"  said  the  mother,  gently 
but  firmly,  "  thou  must  lie  down  and  sleep  now! 
Thy  brain  teemeth  with  wild  fancies.  I  will 
sit  outside  on  the  terrace  neap  thee,  but  thou 
must  indeed  be  calm." 

"  Who  is  the  lad  that  the  child  speaketh  of?" 
questioned  the  lady  Anna  carelessly,  as  the 
two  settled  themselves  upon  tbe  terrace  outside 
the  chamber. 

"He  is  a  lad  from  Capernaum,  wnom 
our  good  Benonl  hath  recently  employed 
to  assist  about  the  gardens.  My  impetuous  little 
daughter  hath  taken  a  great  liking  to  him,  and 
asked  that  he  might  lead  her  mule  upon  the 
journey.  Indeed,  he  seemeth  to  be  a  kind  and 
careful  lad,  albeit  of  a  very  common  Greek 
family.  My  Ruth  hath  had  so  much  excitement 
of  late,  that  her  tongue  doth  run  overmuch;  I 
must  see  to  it  that  she  hath  more  quiet,  and 
some  wholesome  employment." 

"I  have  seen  the  lad,"  said  Anna  musingly. 
"  He  hath  a  noble  countenance,  and  strangely 
enough  of  the  purest  Jewish  type.  Thou  art 
assured  that  he  is  of  Greek  parentage?" 

"  It  Is  certain,"  replied  her  sister,  "  for  I  made 
careful  inquiry  through  Benoni  himself.  His 
father  is  called  Dumachus." 

Then  half  guessing  her  sister's  thoughts,  and 
wishing  to  divert  them  from  so  painful  a  chan- 
nel, she  said:  "  But  now  that  we  are  alone, 
and  not  likely  to  be  interrupted,  I  will  tell  thee 
how  I  heard  the  Naaarene  teach  the  people.  I 
had  long  been  anxious  to  know  more  fully  what 
those  teachings  were;  for,  as  thou  knowest,  re- 
ports oftentimes  untrue  reach  us  from  careless 
listeners,  8p,  bearing  tbdt  He  had  gone  for 


from  the  city  towards  Tiberias,  my  husband 
and  myself,  attended  only  by  Benoni,  set  forth, 
all  three  riding  upon  mules  in  true  peasant 
fashion,  for  we  desired  not  to  attract  attention 
After  riding  for  some  distance  we  fell  in  with 
numerous  people,  all  journeying  in  the  same 
direction.  Every  one  was  talking  of  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  healing  which  he  had  seen,  and 
many  who  had  been  healed  were  journeying 
also,  and  were  pointed  out  to  me  by  Benoni, 
who  hath  taken  a  wondrous  interest  in  this 
Man.  We  heard  finally,  that  He  was  to  be 
found  at  Hattin.  Thou  wilt  remember  the  place 
— 'tis  about  seven  miles  from  Capernaum;  there 
is  there  a  small  village  at  the  foot  of  the  double 
peaked  hill,  called  sometimes  the  Horns  of  Hat- 
tin.*  The  hill  can  be  distinctly  seen  from  our 
house  in  Capernaum. 

"  Upon  arriving  at  this  place,  we  found  assem 
bled  there  a  great  multitude  of  people,  of  all 
nationalities,  and  of  all  grades  of  society.  We 
quickly  learned  that  the  Nazarene  was  even 
then  upon  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  with 
Him  those  men  who  are  already  known  as  His 
disciples.  Presently  we  saw  that  He  was  de^ 
scending  the  slope,  surrounded  by  His  followers; 
instantly  there  pressed  forward  those  who  had 
brought  their  sick  to  be  healed.  We  were  not 
pear  enough  to  see  what  manner  of  sickness 
there  was  among  them,  nor  exactly  what  trans- 
pired; but  from  the  excitement  of  the  crowd, 
and  the  thanksgivings  and  hallelujahs  whicli 
burst  forth,  it  was  evident  that  all  were  healed, 

"  Meanwhile  we  edged  our  way  among  the 
throngs,  and  finally  succeeded  in  getting  within 
bearing  distance  of  the  Nazarene.  He  had 
seated  Himself  now  upon  a  great  rock;  and  as 
He  gazed  around  on  the  assembled  multitudes, 
the  look  upon  His  face  was  such  that  I  could 
not  but  think  of  the  great  angels  of  our  Holy 
Scriptures.  Presently  He  began  to  speak.  I 
would  that  I  could  tell  thee  each  word  of  that 
discourse,  for  it  was  wondrous  by  reason  of  its 
wisdom.  If  He  had  been  the  law-giver  Moses, 
himself,  fresh  from  Sinai,  he  could  not  have 
spoken  with  greater  authority. 

"  He  began  with  blessings.  I  do  not  remem- 
ber them  all,  but  one  stands  out  in  my  memory 
above  the  others:  "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn; 
for  they  shall  be  comforted.'  He  said  also,  that 
the  meek,  the  merciful,  and  the  pure  in  heart, 
were  blessed;  and  all  those  who  should  be 
abused  and  persecuted  for  the  sake  of  the 
Christ.  '  Rejoice  and  exult,'  He  said,  looking  at 
His  disciples,  '  when  men  shall  falsely  reproach 
you,  and  say  every  wicked  word  against  you,  on 
account  of  me.  Your  reward  shall  be  great  in 


"It  is  generally  conceded  bj 
t,he  soew  »f  $9  Spraon  ?g 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


'61 


the  heavens,  for  thus  did  they  persecute  the 
prophets  of  old.  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world. 
A  city  builded  upon  a  mountain  cannot  be  hid; 
and  when  one  lighteth  a  lamp,  they  do  not  put  it 
under  a  corn  measure,  but  upon  a  lamp  stand, 
and  it  giveth  light  to  all  who  are  in  the  house. 
Thus  let  your  light  shine;  that  men  may  see  it 
and  praise  your  Father  which  dwelleth  in  the 
heavens.'* 

"  Then,  my  sister,  I  noticed  that  He  said  Ho 
was  not  come  to  abolish  the  Law  or  the  Proph- 
ets, but  to  fulfill  them  both;  and  that  not  the 
least  thing  should  pass  away,  till  all  had  come 
to  pass.  And  further,  that  unless  our  righteous- 
ness should  be  greater  than  that  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  we  could  never  enter  Into  the 
kingdom  of  the  heavens.  Then  He  spoke  of  the 
Law  in  detail,  and  showed  that  in  His  opinion 
the  person  who  was  angry  without  reason,  was 
as  liable  to  judgment  as  a  murderer;  that  if  a 
person  was  engaged  in  a  quarrel  with  another, 
he  could  not  acceptably  offer  sacrifices  to  God. 
Moreover,  that  one  should  not  attempt  to  resist 
an  evil  doer,  but  rather  shame  him  with  gener- 
osity; that  we  must  love,  not  alone  our  friends, 
but  even  those  who  hated  us  and  tried  to  do  us 
harm;  and  that  we  must  pray  for  wicked  per- 
sons, for  go  might  we  be  children  of  our  Father 
In  the  heavens.  For  His  sun  rlseth  on  those  who 
are  evil,  as  well  as  on  those  who  are  good;  Hia 
rain  also,  cometh  down  on  the  grouted  of  the  bad 
man,  as  well  as  on  that  of  the  good,  And  that  if 
we  love  and  are  courteous  to  our  equals  only, 
we  are  no  better  than  the  Ipwest.  In  short,  wo 
must  try  to  be  perfect,  even  as  our  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect. 

"  Be  careful,  He  said,  not  to  be  charitable  In 
order  that  your  friends  may  see  and  praise  you 
for  It!  If  ye  give  to  the  poor  In  this  way,  God 
will  not  reward  you.  Giving  done  quietly,  and 
without  parade,  shall  be  rewarded  openly.  He 
also  condemned  making  a  show  of  prayer;  and 
thou  knowest,  my  sister,  bow  our  Scribes  and 
Pharisees  sometimes  pray  even  on  the  street— 
I  have  wondered  how  they  could  realize  what 
they  were  doing,  as  they  stand  on  the  corners 
and  pray  so  loudly.  The  Nazarene  declared  that 
they  do  It  simply  to  be  seen  and  praised  of  the 
lookers-on,  and  that  truly  they  will  get  nothing 
else  for  their  prayers.  '  If  thou  wouldst  be 
heard  and  answered  of  God,'  He  said,  '  pray 
secretly  in  your  own  chamber  with  closed  door. 
And  do  not  suppose  that  the  Father  demandeth 
long  prayers,  or  is  pleased  with  empty  repeti- 
tions; the  heathen  pray  in  that  way.  God  is 
your  Father;  He  knoweth  what  things  ye  have 
need  of,  before  ye  ask  Him.'  He  doth  not  wait 
to  have  us  ask,  for  see  how  He  careth  for  every 


creature,  even  for  those  who,  like  the  heathen, 
never  pray  aright.  Yet  must  we  pray,  for  so  it 
pleaseth  the  Father.  Then  He  said:  'After  this 
manner  pray  ye:  Our  Father,  who  art  in  the 
heavens,  sanctified  be  thy  name.  Let  thy  king- 
dom come,  let  thy  will  be  done,  as  in  the  heav- 
ens so  also  upon  the  earth.  The  needed  bread 
give  us  to-day.  Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  also  we 
forgive  our  debtors.  And  lead  us  not  into  temp- 
tation, but  deliver  us  from  the  evil  one.  For 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the 
glory,  to  the  ages.  Amen.'  "* 

"  'Tis  a  wondrous  prayer,"  said  Anna,  her  eyes 
glowing  in  the  semi-darkness.  "  But  His  teach- 
ings are  strangely  different  from  what  hath 
sounded  in  our  ears  since  Moses  led  forth  the 
people  of  Israel  from  Egypt." 

"  But  hath  it  not  the  sound  of  truth?  It  seem- 
eth  so  to  me,"  answered  her  sister.  "I  can  tell 
thee  more,  if  thou  wilt  hear  it.  Art  thou  not 
weary?" 

"  Nay,  tell  me  more — all  that  thou  canst,"  said 
Anna. 

"  I  feel  that,  at  best,  I  can  only  give  frag-, 
ments,  but  I  will  try.  He  counseled  that  we 
should  not  care  overmuch  for  the  treasures  of 
earth;  for  such  things  are  liable  to  be  eaten  with, 
moths,  or  rusted  away,  else  stolen.  Thou  know? 
est  how  true  that  is,  my  sister?" 

"  It  Is  indeed  true,"  murmured  Anna  with  a 
sigh,  thinking  how  her  chiefest  treasure  had, 
been  stolen  from  her. 

"  Lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  In  heaven, 
where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt,  and 
where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal," 
continued  Anna  softly,  ''And  do  not  be  over- 
anxious  about  the  future,  for  your  Father  In 
heaven  knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of  food,  and 
clothing,  and  shelter;  and  If  He  clothe  the  wili 
lilies,  which  toll  not  at  all,  more  gorgeously  than 
even  the  great  Solomon  In  alfhis  glory,  shall  He 
forget  His  children?  The  first  thing  and  the  most 
Important,  Is  to  seek  after  God  and  Hla  right, 
eousness,  If  we  do  this,  all  else  that  is  needful 
shall  be  given  us  by  the  hand  that  never  falleth. 
Do  not  criticise  others,  for  often  we  ourselves 
are  full  of  faults  more  evil;  we  must  be  judged 
even  as  we  judge  our  fellow-men.  God  will  give 
more  abundantly  to  His  children,  when  they  ask 
Him,  than  earthly  parents  to  their  children! 
So  that  if  we  desire  anything,  we  must  ask  It  of 
our  heavenly  Father.  We  shall  surely  receive 
it,  if  it  be  for  our  good.  To  keep  perfectly  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets— note  this  particularly, 
my  sister,  for  it  is  what  we  are  always  laboring 
to  perform—'  it  is  only  necessary  to  do  unro 
others,  such  things  as  we  would  wish  them  to  do 
to  us.' 


f  I4teri»l  translation  firpa  the  Greefc 


literal  from  the  Greefc 


32 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


"  His  closing  words  were  astonishing,  for  in 
them  He  plainly  declared  Himself  to  be  the 
Heaven-sent  One.  '  Not  every  one  who  shall  say 
to  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  the  heavens;  but  he  who  doeth  the  will  of 
my  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  Many  will  say  to 
me  in  that  day,  Did  we  not  cast  out  devils  in  thy 
name,  and  in  thy  name  perform  many  works  of 
power?  Then  shall  I  say  to  them,  I  never  knew 
you.  Depart  from  me,  ye  who  work  lawless- 
ness. Every  one  therefore  who  heareth  these 
words  of  mine,  and  liveth  them,  is  like  a  prudent 
man,  who  built  his  house  upon  a  rock.  Down 
came  the  rain;  the  streams  rose;  and  the  strong 
winds  blew;  but  the  house  was  safe;  for  it  was 
builded  upon  a  rock.  But  he  who  heareth  these 
words  and  heedeth  them  not,  is  like  a  man  who 
foolishly  built  his  house  upon  the  sand.  Down 
came  the  rain;  the  streams  rose;  and  the  tempest 
raged  and  beat  upon  that  house;  and  it  fell,  and 
great  was  the  fall  of  it.' 

"  When  He  had  finished  these  sayings  a  great 
murmur  of  amazement  arose  from  that  vast 
multitude.  Truly,  my  sister,  it  was  a  marvelous 
discourse,  though  I  can  but  dimly  and  imper- 
fectly repeat  it  to  thee.  I  would  that  thou 
couldst  hear  the  Man  for  thyself." 

"  I  would  that  I  might,"  said  the  lady  Anna; 
then  she  added  hesitatingly,  "  But  thou  knowest 
how  my  husband  thinketh,  and  our  father  also." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  assented  her  sister  simply. 

After  that  the  two  were  silent,  absorbed  each 
in  her  own  thoughts,  while  within  the  child  slept 
peacefully. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HIS  TLING 
softly  to 
himself  a  s 
he  worked, 
Titus  was 
fastening  up 
some  long 
tendrils  of  a 
climbing 
vine;  it  was 
a  difficult 
job,  and 
when  he  had 
finished,  his 
face  was 
quite  hot 
and  flushed. 
H  e  there- 
fore walked  slowly  across  the  turf  to  the  fount- 
ain, and,  seating  himself  on  the  marble  ledge 
which  surrounded  it,  began  plunging  his  hand 


and  arm  into  its  cool  depths,  withdrawing  it  at 
intervals  to  wet  his  curly  head. 

"  Ah,  that  cold  water,  how  good  it  is!"  he  mur- 
mured to  himself;  then  shaking  his  head  vigor- 
ously to  rid  it  of  the  superfluous  drops,  he  stood 
up,  and  resting  his  hands  upon  his  hips,  looked 
around  the  garden  with  great  satisfaction.  He 
had  been  hard  at  work  since  early  dawn;  and 
as  his  eyes  wandered  from  the  trim  shrubbery 
to  the  velvet  turf,  and  then  on  to  the  masses  of 
brilliant  flowers  and  graceful  festoons  of  vines, 
he  saw  nothing  to  criticise. 

"  It  looketh  well  to  me,"  he  said  aloud.  "  But 
I  know  not  what  Benoni  will  think;  he  hath 
the  eye  of  an  eagle  for  a  trace  of  disorder." 
Then  catching  sight  of  some  bright-colored  ob- 
ject on  the  ground  under  one  of  the  marble 
benches,  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  It  was  a 
ball,  gayly  striped  with  blue,  scarlet  and  yellow. 
As  he  turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  hands,  he 
smiled  and  said,  "  I  wonder  where  the  little 
lady  is  this  morning.  Ah,  there  is  Marissa!" 

The  maid  was  passing  rapidly  towards  the 
court,  bearing  a  pitcher  in  her  hands.  She 
stopped  and  turned,  as  Titus  called  to  her,  and 
as  he  came  near,  he  noticed  that  she  was  un- 
usually grave. 

"  Here  is  a  ball  belonging  to  our  little  lady," 
he  said.  "  Wilt  thou  take  care  of  it?  She  hath 
not  been  in  the  garden  to  play  this  morning." 

"  She  is  ill,"  said  Marissa  soberly;  "  we  have 
sent  out  for  a  physician.  I  am  going  now  for 
some  hot  water;  do  not  keep  me." 

Titus  opened  the  door  leading  into  the  passage- 
way which  connected  the  two  courtyards,  and 
followed  Marissa  as  she  hastened  on  with  her 
pitcher. 

"  What  aileth  the  little  one?"  he  asked,  as  she 
paused  to  dip  some  water  from  a  steaming 
cauldron. 

"  We  Know  not  She  hath  fever  and  complain- 
eth  of  pain  in  her  head.  It  hath  not  been  well 
with  her  since  our  return  from  Jerusalem." 

"  Where  is  the  master?"  asked  Titus. 

"  He  is  with  the  child,"  answered  Marissa, 
"  also  her  mother,  and  old  Tabitha,  who  nursed 
the  mistress  in  her  infancy.  She  knoweth  more 
about  sickness  than  all  the  doctors  put  together. 
Ugh!  I  dread  to  have  them  come  near  the  child 
with  their  loathsome  messes!  When  I  had  the 
fever,  they  gave  me  the  juice  of  scorpions  mixed 
with  wine.*  I  swallowed  it  not,  but  poured  out 
each  dose;  I  thought  the  medicine  would  be 
better  in  the  ground  than  I  myself  yet  awhile." 
And  she  hurried  away  with  the  steaming  pitcher, 
leaving  Titus  to  tell  the  sad  news  of  the  little 


*This  remedy  and  the  others  which  are  spoken  of  in  this 
chapter  were  actually  prescribed  by  physicians  of  that 
day.  (See  Pliny's  Natural  History.) 


TITUS.  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


33 


Ruth's  illness  to  the  other  servants,  who  had 
crowded  around. 

He  left  them  as  soon  as  possible,  for  their 
society  was  at  best  distasteful  to  him,  and  now 
their  dismal  forebodings  and  ominous  waggings 
of  the  head  filled  him  with  a  kind  of  dull  rage. 

"  The  stupid  rabble!"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  they  care  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  wag  their 
chattering  tongues!  How  they  peep  and  whis- 
per, and  run  with  every  bit  of  news,  as  doth  a 
greedy  chicken  with  a  piece  of  bread." 

He  was  wronging  them,  and  in  his  heart  he 
knew  it,  for  every  one  about  the  place  loved  the 
little  lady,  as  she  was  always  called. 

As  he  paced  uneasily  up  and  down,  he  saw 
that  the  door  of  the  passage-way  leading  to  the 
street  was  standing  open;  and  presently,  with- 
out exactly  knowing  why,  he  found  himself  out- 
side. Once  there,  he  bent  his  steps  toward  the 
quarter  of  the  town  where  was  the  poor  place 
he  still  called  home. 

"  I  must  see  Stephen,"  he  said  to  himself,  as 
be  hurried  along. 

Meanwhile,  in  her  chamber,  which  opened 
upon  one  of  the  small  inner  courts  of  the  house, 
the  little  Ruth  was  tossing  wearily  upon  her 
bed. 

"  Oh,  mother,  my  head!  my  head!"  she  moaned. 
And  the  mother  saw,  with  a  sinking  heart,  the 
scarlet  flush  on  her  cheeks,  and  the  eyes  hourly 
growing  more  sunken  and  brilliant. 

The  good  old  Tabitha  was  wringing  out  linen 
cloths  from  cold  water,  which  she  placed  upon 
the  sufferer's  brow,  while  at  intervals  she 
caused  them  to  put  the  little  feet  into  a  basin  of 
hot  water. 

"  We  must  keep  the  heat  from  the  darling's 
head,"  she  was  saying,  with  the  wisdom  born 
of  good  common  sense  and  long  experience.  "  I 
have  saved  many  a  fever  patient,  as  thou  know- 
est,  with  water  alone." 

"Why  doth  not  the  physician  come?"  said 
Jairus  impatiently.  "  I  would  be  doing  some- 
thing for  her,  in  the  way  of  medicament;  the 
water  is  well  enough,  but  for  such  a  sickness  as 
this,  medicine  is  assuredly  needful." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  Marissa  announced  the  phy- 
sician, standing  aside  that  he  might  enter  before 
her. 

A  tall,  heavily-bearded  man,  magnificently 
attired,  swept  into  the  apartment,  attended  by 
a  small,  black  slave  bearing  the  various  ap- 
purtenances of  his  craft.  He  greeted  Jairus 
ceremoniously;  then,  approaching  the  bedside 
of  the  child,  he  looked  at  her,  narrowing  his 
eyes,  pursing  up  his  mouth,  and  frowning  deeply 
as  he  did  so.  Presently  he  put  out  his  hand  and 
laid  it  upon  the  child's  head,  then  hemmed 
loudly.  The  little  thing  started,  and  trembled, 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  gown. 


"  She  hath  a  burning  heat!"  said  the  great  man 
finally,  in  a  deep,  sonorous  voice;  then  he  rolled 
his  eyes  majestically  at  Tabitha,  as  she  was 
about  to  place  a  fresh  cool  bit  of  linen  on  the 
child's  burning  forehead,  and  stretched  forth  his 
hand  forbiddingly. 

"Woman!"  he  said  sternly,  "cease  thy  fool- 
ishness! Water  is  indeed  good  in  health,  but 
thou  hast  imperiled  the  child's  life  by  thy 
folly." 

Tabitha  turned  her  broad  back  upon  him,  and 
was  heard  to  mutter  something  unintelligible. 

The  physician  now  beckoned  to  his  slave,  and. 
taking  from  him  a  small  brazen  vessel,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  mingle  in  it  a  number  of  dark  liquids, 
together  with  a  grayish  white  powder.  When 
he  had  finished  this,  he  again  turned  to  his 
familiar,  who  immediately  produced  from  an- 
other receptacle  a  dead  snake.  This  the  great 
man  proceeded  to  skin.  When  he  had  finished 
the  operation,  which  he  performed  with  mar- 
velous deftness,  he  again  hemmed  loudly,  and 
said: 

"  Thou  shalt  make  of  this  snake-skin  three  por- 
tions; one  portion  shall  be  bound  upon  the  fore- 
head of  the  child,  and  one  upon  the  sole  of  each 
foot.  Also  of  the  draught  which  I  have  min- 
gled, give  her,  at  intervals  of  an  hour,  one  great 
spoonful.  If  it  be  the  will  of  Jehovah,  she  will 
recover  within  seven  days.  I  shall  return  again 
at  the  evening  hour.  And  stay!" — here  again 
his  eye  sought  Tabitha—"  'Twere  better  to  re- 
move yon  contentious  woman  from  the  apart- 
ment." Then  bowing  deeply,  he  was  about  to 
leave  the  room,  when  Jairus  stopped  him  with 
an  imperious  gesture. 

"  Good  sir!"  he  demanded,  "  I  would  know 
what  hath  entered  into  the  potion  which  she  is 
to  swallow." 

The  physician  frowned,  and  shook  his  head, 
but  finally  said  majestically: 

"  'Tis  not  our  custom  to  reveal  the  secrets  of 
our  craft;  but  for  thee  I  will  even  make  excep- 
tion. Know,  then,  that  the  draught — which  thou 
wilt  find  most  wholesome — containeth  first,  the 
gall  of  a  wild  sow  dissolved  in  vinegar:  second, 
the  ashes  of  a  wolf's  skull  mingled  with  the  fat 
of  a  viper;  and  lastly,  and  most  important  of  all, 
a  stone  taken  from  the  head  of  a  sea  eel,  caught 
at  the  time  of  the  full  moon.  This  stone  hath 
been  powdered  together  with  a  portion  of  scor- 
pion's legs,  and  hath  been  known  to  be  effica- 
cious when  taken  alone;  but  compounded  as  I 
have  described,  maketh  a  nostrum  of  such  ra;v 
virtue,  that  without  doubt  the  patient  will  speed- 
ily recover.  Should  she  not  recover,  it  will  bo 
because  of  the  folly  of  yonder  woman."  So  say- 
ing, he  again  bowed  profoundly  and  swept  from 
the  chamber,  followed  by  his  slave. 

When  he  had  finally  gone,  Tabitha  came  for- 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


ward,  and,  throwing  herself  upon  her  knees  be- 
fore her  mistress,  sobbed  out: 

"Oh,  send  me  not  away!  I  will  do  anything, 
if  only  I  may  stay.  Surely  I  have  not  hurt  the 
child— thou  knowest  that  the  wet  linen  soothed 
her.  And  how  can  the  skin  of  a  snake  be  better 
than  cool,  fresh  water?" 

"  Hush,  Tabitha!"  said  her  mistress,  the  tears 
running  down  her  cheeks.  "  Thou  shalt  stay; 
indeed  I  could  not  do  without  thee.  But  oh,  my 
husband!  what  dost  thou  think  of  the  draught? 
I  cannot  bear  to  give  it  to  her.  And  that  dread- 
ful slimy  skin!" 

"  I  think  this  of  it!"  said  Jairus  fiercely,  rising 
and  seizing  the  skin  and  the  brazen  vessel,  and 
tossing  them  both  out  of  the  window.  "  If  she 
must  die,  she  shall  die  unpolluted  with  such 
vileness!  Go  on  with  thy  nursing,  Tabitha,  and 
in  thine  own  way.  And  do  thou,  Marissa,  give 
orders  to  the  porter  not  to  admit  that  man  when 
he  cometh  at  evening.  Stay!— tell  him  to  give 
the  fellow  this  gold." 

But  now  the  little  patient,  either  because  of 
the  fright  and  agitation,  or  because  of  the 
progress  of  the  disease,  began  to  talk  wildly. 
Now  she  fancied  that  she  was  in  Jerusalem,  and 
wandered  on  incoherently  of  the  processions, 
the  Temple,  the  singing.  Now  she  thought  she 
was  riding  her  mule,  and  that  Titus  was  gather- 
ing great  bunches  of  wild-flowers  for  her.  Pres- 
ently she  half  raised  herself  in  the  bed,  and 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  cried  out  joy- 
ously : 

"Oh,  Titus!  I  see  the  Master!  He  is  coming 
through  the  meadow.  See  how  the  lilies  bend, 
as  His  garments  pass  over  them!  I  shall  speak 
with  Him  at  last!" 

Then  she  fell  back  upon  her  pillow,  her  voice 
again  sinking  into  a  low  incoherent  murmur. 

But  like  a  flash  of  light  came  the  thought  of 
the  great  Healer  to  the  despairing  mother.  Ris- 
ing, she  crossed  the  room  to  the  window,  before 
which  stood  her  husband,  his  head  bowed  upon 
his  breast,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm, 
she  half  whispered:  "  My  husband,  in  our  ter- 
ror we  had  forgotten  the  Nazarene;  could  He  not 
heal  our  child?" 

Jairus  started  and  turned  toward  his  wife,  a 
gleam  of  something  like  hope  in  his  eyes. 

"True!"  he  said.  "We  had  most  strangely 
forgotten.  I  believe  that  He,  and  He  alone,  can 
help  us  now.  I  will  go  at  once,  and  make  in- 
quiries concerning  Him.  Benoni  is  even  now 
waiting  outside  for  orders." 


Titus  was  sitting  motionless  by  the  side  of  the 
fountain,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  door  of  the 
inner  court.  He  had  been  there  for  hours,  wait- 
ing for  some  one  to  come  out.  When,  therefore, 


Benoni  issued  forth,  prepared  to  do  his  master's 
bidding,  Titus  sprang  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  How  doth  our  little  lady  fare?"  he  asked. 

"Alas!  I  fear  that  she  groweth  worse.  She 
will  die,  unless  she  hath  help,  and  that  quickly. 
I  am  going  forth  to  seek  the  Nazarene.  We 
hope — ' 

"  He  is  not  here,"  said  Titus  in  a  tone  of  dull 
despair.  "  This  morning,  \vhen  first  I  heard  of 
her  sickness,  I  sought  Stephen,  my  brother — for 
he  always  knoweth  the  best  thing  to  do— and  he 
said  at  once,  '  Let  us  seek  the  Master.'  And  we 
sought  far  and  wide,  and  found  at  last  that  He 
had  taken  shipping  yesterday  to  go  to  the  other 
side  of  the  lake.  It  may  be  that  He  hath  gone 
away  into  Samaria,  or  even  back  to  Jerusalem. 
I  know  not  how  we  could  find  Him." 

Benoni  looked  grave.  But  at  length  he  said: 
"  I  must  go  forth,  even  as  I  was  bidden;  it  may 
be  that  He  hath  returned  since  the  morning." 

"  Go  if  thou  wilt,"  said  Titus  wearily.  "  But 
Stephen  was  to  keep  watch,  and  bring  me  word 
if  He  should  return,  he  will  not  fail  to  do  so." 

"  I  also  must  go,"  said  Benoni. 

But  he  returned  within  an  hour,  and  his  gravo 
countenance  showed  that  he  had  failed  in  his 
mission. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LOWLY  the  hours  dragged 
by.  Night  came  on,  and, 
as  slowly,  wore  away. 
Still  Titus  watched  and 
waited  for  some  word 
from  Stephen,  while 
within  the  sick-room 
the  watchers,  with  de- 
spairing hearts,  saw  the 
steady  and  relentless 
approach  of  the  dread  destroyer. 

The  child  lay  motionless  now,  her  eyes  half 
opened  and  glassy;  but  for  the  sound  of  her 
difficult  breathing  which  filled  the  chamber,  they 
would  have  thought  her  dead.  The  mother  had 
thrown  herself  on  her  knees  at  the  foot  of  tho 
bed,  her  face  hidden  in  the  draperies.  She  had 
been  praying  at  intervals  all  night,  the  words  of 
the  Master  in  her  thoughts:  "  God  is  more  will- 
ing to  give  good  gifts  to  His  children,  than  are 
ye  to  give  good  things  to  your  children  "  And 
now  her  heart  was  full  of  bitterness.  "  I  have 
prayed,  and  God  hath  not  heard  me.  My  child 
is  dying.  The  Master  hath  healed  scores  of 
worthless  beggars,  but  now  that  my  pure,  inno- 
cent child  is  suffering.  He  will  not  come.  If  He 
were  the  Christ,  woiild  He  not  know  of  this?" 
And  over  and  over  again,  the  cruel  thoughts  re- 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


35 


peated  themselves,  till  her  brain  was  half  mad 
with  pain. 

At  length  she  arose,  and  going  swiftly  toward 
her  husband,  who  was  sitting  motionless  watch- 
ing the  child's  face,  she  said: 

"  Wilt  thou  not  go  forth  and  search  for  the 
Nazarene?  Do  not  wait!  It  may  be  that  He 
hath  come  even  now." 

Jairus  rose,  and  without  a  word  left  the  room. 
It  was  morning  now,  and  the  bright  sunlight 
struck  painfully  on  his  throbbing  eyeballs. 

Outside  on  the  terrace,  the  faithful  Benoni  was 
pacing  up  and  down.  When  he  heard  his  mas- 
ter's step,  he  sprang  forward,  but  the  question 
died  on  his  lips  as  he  saw  his  face. 

"  Has  anything  been  heard  of  the  Nazarene?" 
asked  Jairus. 

"  Nothing,  my  lord,"  answered  the  man  mourn- 
fully. "  I  have  been  out  many  times,  and  the 
lad  Titus  also." 

"  I  am  going  now.  It  may  be  that  I  shall  find 
Him,"  said  Jairus  slowly.  "  Do  thou  remain 
here  within  call.  I  will  take  the  lad  with  me." 

Titus  had  just  made  one  of  his  excursions  into 
the  street,  and  was  about  to  return  sorrowfully 
for  the  twentieth  time,  when  he  heard  a  noise 
as  of  light,  rapid  footfalls  on  the  stone  pave- 
ment. Some  one  was  coming!  He  stood  still 
and  listened.  In  another  moment  Stephen  ap- 
proached the  gate,  running  at  full  speed.  When 
he  saw  Titus,  he  cried  out  joyfully: 

"  He  has  come!" 

Titus  did  not  stop  to  hear  more,  but,  calling 
to  Stephen  to  wait,  ran  back  through  the  court 
into  the  garden,  and  was  about  to  knock  boldly 
on  the  door  which  led  to  the  inner  court,  when 
it  suddenly  opened  and  Jairus  himself  came 
out. 

"  The  Healer  hath  come!"  cried  Titus  ex- 
citedly, without  waiting  for  his  master  to  speak. 
"  My  brother  hath  but  just  brought  word.  He 
is  waiting  outside  and  can  tell  where  He  is  to  be 
found.  Shall  I  go  for  thee?" 

"  No,  lad,"  said  Jairus,  "  I  will  go  for  myself; 
but  thou  mayst  attend  me." 

The  two  passed  quickly  into  the  street,  where 
they  found  Stephen  waiting. 

"  Come  this  way!"  he  said.  "  He  had  but  just 
lauded  outside  the  city,  and  was  approaching 
the  eastern  gate  when  I  heard  of  it." 

All  three  hurried  on  in  silence,  Jairus  slightly 
in  advance  of  the  two  lads,  as  though  he  would 
outstrip  them.  Never  had  the  way  seemed  so 
long.  Streets,  squares,  alleys,  mansions  and 
hovels,  amphitheatre  and  synagogue — they  were 
all  alike  to  him  now.  He  had  neither  eaten  nor 
slept  for  more  than  twenty-four  hours;  and 
things  loomed  up  huge  and  horrible  through  a 
mist  of  pain.  At  last  they  reached  the  eastern 
gate. 


"  Hath  the  Nazarene  passed  this  way  yet?" 
he  asked  the  gate-keeper  hoarsely. 

"  No,"  said  the  man.  "  He  hath  stopped  yon- 
der to  talk  to  the  people,  who  already  throng 
Him,  though  He  hath  but  just  landed."  He 
pointed  eastward  as  he  spoke,  and  the  three 
hurried  on  toward  a  little  rise  in  the  ground, 
which  was  crowded  with  people. 

They  presently  reached  the  outskirts  of  this 
throng  and  could  see  the  face  of  the  Master 
Himself,  as  He  stood  upon  an  elevation  in  the 
midst. 

"  In  God's  name,  let  me  pass,  good  people!" 
cried  Jairus.  "  I  must  speak  with  the  Master!" 

The  crowd  gave  way  respectfully,  for  many 
of  them  recognized  the  speaker,  and  all  saw  that 
he  was  in  deep  trouble.  And  now  he  has  fallen 
at  the  feet  of  the  Master,  and  is  crying  out: 

"Jesus,  thou  Son  of  God,  I  beseech  thee  to 
hear  me!  My  little  daughter  lieth  at  the  point 
of  death;  I  pray  thee  come  and  lay  thy  hands 
upon  her,  that  she  may:  be  healed;  and  she  shall 
live." 

Immediately  Jesus  put  forth  His'  hand  and 
raised  him  up,  and  they  began  to  move  toward 
» the  city  gate;  and  with  them,  all  the  multitude, 
which  was  constantly  increasing,  as  one  and  an- 
other, scenting  some  new  excitement,  joined  it. 

Their  progress  was  necessarily  slow  now,  for 
the  crowd  was  surging  on  all  sides  of  them. 
Presently  they  stopped  altogether,  for  Jesus  was 
standing  still  in  the  midst.  Turning,  He  said: 

"Who  touched  me?" 

At  first  no  one  answered,  for  all  were  aston- 
ished at  the  question.  Then  one  of  His  disciples, 
Peter  by  name,  said: 

"  Master,  the  multitude  throng  thee  and  press 
thee;  and  sayest  thou,  Who  touched  me?" 

But  Jesus  answered:  "  Somebody  hath 
touched  me;  for  I  perceive  that  power  hath  gone 
out  of  me." 

As  He  spoke,  He  fixed  His  eyes  upon  a  poorly- 
dressed  woman  who  stood  near.  When  she  saw 
that  He  was  looking  at  her,  she  trembled,  and 
coming  forward,  fell  down  before  Him,  and 
sobbed  out: 

"  Oh,  Master!  I  beseech  thee  to  forgive  me! 
I  have  been  in  misery  for  twelve  years  by  reason 
of  an  incurable  disease,  and  have  suffered  many 
things  of  many  physicians.  I  have  spent  all  that 
I  had,  and  was  nothing  bettered,  but  always 
made  worse.  And  I  thought  in  my  heart,  that 
if  I  could  but  touch  the  hem  of  thy  garment,  ( 
should  be  healed.  And  it  was  so,  for  no  sooner 
had  I  touched,  than  I  was  made  whole." 

When  Jesus  heard  this,  He  put  forth  His  hand 
and  raised  her  up,  saying: 

"  Daughter,  be  of  good  courage;  thy  faith  hath 
made  thee  whole.  Go  in  peace,  and  be  healed 
of  thy  scourge." 


T1W&  A  COMKADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


While  He  was  yet  speaking  to  the  woman, 
.Tairus,  who  had  been  waiting  in  an  agony  of 
impatience,  saw  Benoni  approaching.  And 
Benoni,  when  he  spied  his  master,  rent  his 
clothes  with  a  loud  cry  of  grief. 

"Alas!  my  lord,"  he  said,  "thy  daughter  is 
dead.  Trouble  not  the  Master  any  further." 

The  face  of  Jairus  blanched  to  a  ghastly  pal- 
lor when  he  heard  these  words,  and  he  would 
have  fallen  to  the  earth,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  quick  hand  of  the  Master. 

"  Be  not  afraid!"  He  said  to  him  gently. 
"  Only  believe!"  And  turning,  He  spoke  authori- 
tatively to  the  crowd,  forbidding  them  to  come 
any  further. 

Then  they  again  went  on;  Jesus  with  three  of 
His  disciples  and  Jairus;  the  two  lads,  with 
Benoni,  following  at  a  little  distance. 

"  What  can  the  Healer  do  now  to  help?"  mut- 
tered Titus  bitterly.  "  But  for  the  woman,  we 
might  have  been  in  time." 

"  The  little  one  breathed  her  last  just  after 
the  master  left  the  house,"  said  Benoni  sadly. 

"  But  didst  thou  hear  what  He  said  to  the 
father  of  the  child?"  said  Stephen.  "  '  Pear  not. 
Only  believe'!  He  will  do  something  to  help— 
thou  wilt  see." 

"  But  what  can  He  do,  now?"  repeated  Titus. 

"  He  can  help  them  to  bear  the  will  of  our 
Father  which  is  in  heaven,"  said  Stephen  softly. 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  home  of 
Jairus;  and  entering  in  after  the  others,  they 
found  the  court  of  the  household  almost  de- 
serted. Passing  through  into  the  garden  court, 
they  could  hear  the  piercing  wails  of  the  women 
from  the  death-chamber,  for  the  door  leading  to 
the  inner  court  stood  wide  open.  The  garden  it- 
self was  filled  with  excited  women,  wailing  and 
gesticulating,  while  the  men  with  rent  garments 
were  weeping  aloud,  and  strewing  ashes*  upon 
their  heads  and  beards  in  token  of  their 
grief. 

Within,  sat  the  mother  by  the  bedside  of  her 
dead  child— for  she  had  resisted  the  well-meant 
efforts  of  her  women  to  take  her  away— her 
wide,  tearless  eyes  fixed  upon  the  waxen  beauty 
of  the  face  upon  the  pillow.  Amid  all  the  wail- 
ing and  tumult  she  was  stonily  silent. 

"  Soon  she  will  be  forever  hidden  from  me," 
she  was  thinking.  "  I  must  not  weep  now,  while 
she  is  sleeping  so  quietly." 

Presently  she  became  dimly  aware  of  another 
Presence  in  the  room,  and  of  a  deep  authorita- 
tive voice.  What  was  it  that  He  was  saying?— 
"  Why  make  ye  this  ado,  and  weep?  The  damsel 
is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth." 

And  the  strident  wailing  ceased;  and  there 
was  a  blessed  stillness  in  her  tortured  ears. 


*Strewing  ashes  upon  the  forehead  and  breast,  and  rend- 
ing the  garments,  were  signs  of  grief  and  mourning. 


Not  dead!  Sleeping!  She  started  to  her  feet, 
and  leaning  over  the  little  form,  listened  breath- 
lessly. Alas!  she  slept  indeed,  but  it  was  the 
chill  and  pulseless  sleep  which  would  know  no 
waking.  She  raised  her  eyes,  dim  with  anguish, 
to  His  face. 

"  Thou  knowest  that  she  is  dead,  Master," 
were  the  words  which  shaped  themselves  on  her 
lips;  but  they  were  never  uttered.  Something 
in  those  fathomless  eyes  forbade  them. 

And  standing  by  the  bedside,  Jesus  took  the 
little  icy  hand  in  His,  and  said: 

"  My  child,  I  say  unto  thee,  arise!" 

And  at  the  words,  lo!  a  rosy  flush  swept  over 
the  marble  beauty  of  the  face,  the  long  lashes 
trembled,  and  the  eyes— but  lately  closed  for 
their  long,  long  sleep— flashed  wide  open,  bright 
with  joy  and  health.  They  fixed  themselves 
upon  the  Master's  face,  and  a  smile  slow  and 
sweet  dawned  in  their  starry  depths. 

" 'Tis  thou  at  last!"  she  said  softly.  "I  have 
been  dreaming  of  thee." 

Who  could  describe  the  scene  which  followed! 
—the  happiness,  the  gratitude,  the  well-nigh  de- 
lirious revulsion  from  the  depths  of  a  grief  so 
profound,  to  that  of  a  joy  so  transcendent. 

The  child  gazed  at  her  parents  in  solemn  won- 
der, as  they  fell  at  the  Master's  feet,  covering 
them  with  tears  and  kisses.  She  had  slept;  she 
had  dreamed;  she  had  awakened.  But  what 
meant  this  strange  weeping,  this  tumult  in  the 
garden  outside?  Was  she  dreaming  still? 

The  Master,  seeing  her  look,  and  divining  her 
thoughts,  spoke  to  the  mother,  His  words  recall- 
ing her  instantly  to  herself: 

"  The  child  is  an  hungered;  wilt  thou  not  give 
her  to  eat?" 

Then  charging  them  straitly  that  they  should 
not  noise  the  thing  abroad,  He  left  them  alone 
with  their  joy. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


N  one  of  the 
green  and 
pleasant  soli- 
tudes near  the  head 
of  the  lake,  a  group 
of  men,  strangelv 
at  variance  with 
the  peaceful  beauty 
of  their  surround- 
ings, sat,  or  sprawled  at  full  length,  around  a 
small  fire.  There  were  ten  or  a  dozen  of  them, 
great  hulking  fellows,  low-browed,  swarthy 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


37 


with  wind  and  weather,  and  disfigured  with 
the  scars  of  many  a  sinister  combat.  They 
were  engaged  for  the  moment  in  the  peaceable 
occupation  of  broiling  some  fish,  while  on  the 
grass  near  by,  lay  several  half-emptied  wine- 
skins. 

"  And  so  the  lad  hath  given  thee  the  slip, 
Dumachus?  'Twere  a  pity;  he  hath  the  making 
of  a  bold  fellow  in  him,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
leaning  forward  to  heap  fresh  fuel  on  the  fire. 
"  Where  didst  thou  get  him,  anyway?  He  is  of 
no  kin  to  thee." 

"  He  is  my  son,"  said  Dumachus  sullenly. 


"7  am  He,  and  these  be  my 


"  Come,  come  now,  comrade!  AVhy  take  the 
trouble  to  lie  to  us  about  a  trifle  like  that?  If 
thou  hast  stolen  him  from  some  rich  Jew,  why 
not  demand  a  ransom  for  his  return?  Men  are 
plentier  than  gold  nowadays." 

Dumachus  made  no  answer  for  a  moment, 
then  said  sneeringly: 

"  And  thou,  my  good  friend,  wouldst  make  all 
due  arrangements  in  the  matter,  and  share  the 
gold  perhaps?" 

"  That  would  I!"  said  the  other,  with  a  great 
laugh.  "  Come,  tell  us  the  man's  name." 

"  Fool!"  hissed  Dumachus.  "  If  I  had  chosen 
to  restore  the  boy,  as  thou  sayest,  would  I  not 
have  done  it  years  ago?  I  love  my  revenge  bet- 
ter than  the  yellowest  gold  ever  coined.  He 
shall  not  escape  me,  and  when  the  time  is  ripe  I 
shall—"  Here  he  stopped  abruptly,  while  so 
hideous  an  expression  overspread  his  counten- 
ance that  even  his  guilt-hardened  companions 
stared  at  him  in  momentary  wonder. 

"  I  envy  not  the  lad  his  future,  with  such  a 


guardian  as  thou  art,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  I  believe  there  is  not 
another  such  brute  in  Galilee!  Thou  wilt  be 
crucified  yet,  my  worshipful  chief!" 

But  he  had  his  hand  on  the  haft  of  the  short 
two-edged  knife  in  his  belt,  as  he  spoke,  and 
Dumachus,  who  had  started  up  at  the  words, 
sank  back  again,  muttering  threats  and  curses 
under  his  breath. 

"  Come!"  said  another.    "  Hast  thou  not  had 
blood  enough,  that  thou  must  knive  each  other, 
now  we  are  at  rest?     Let  us  eat!"     And  the 
speaker  helped  himself  to  one  of  the  fish  which 
were    sizzling    on    the 
coals. 

The  others  followed 
his  example,  and  soon 
all  were  eating  and 
drinking,  the  rude  feast 
being  enlivened  with 
snatches  of  coarse  song, 
and  bursts  of  coarser 
laughter.  Presently  one 
of  the  men  stopped, 
with  a  morsel  half  way 
to  his  mouth. 

"  Hist!  I  hear  some 
one  coming!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

Instantly  all  were  on 
their  feet;  and  one, 
creeping  lightly  to  the 
verge  of  a  little  de- 
clivity fringed  with 
bushes,  peered  out  cau- 
tiously. 

In  a  moment  he  re- 
turned. 

"  'Tis  the  Nazarene  Rabbi  with  His  band;  they 
have  just  landed  on  the  beach  below." 

"  What  can  they  be  doing  here,  think  you?" 
whispered  another.  "  Shall  we—?"  And  he 
drew  his  glittering  knife  with  a  significant  ges- 
ture. 

"No,  fool!"  snarled  Dumachus.  "They  have 
no  booty.  Besides,"  he  added,  "  the  Man  may 
be  useful  to  us.  Thou  knowest  that  He  hath  a 
great  following  already,  and  greater  every  day. 
With  Him  for  king,  we  could  make  ourselves 
masters  of  the  country.  He  hath  magic  powers; 
and  could,  from  the  grass  of  the  field,  make 
swords  enough  to  arm  every  man  who  should 
join  us.  The  Romans  themselves  fear  Him!" 

"  They  say,"  said  another,  "  that  He  hath 
made  a  compact  with  Beelzebub  himself,  and 
that  is  why  He  hath  such  marvelous  powers.  I 
heard  a  Rabbi  from  Jerusalem  explaining  the 
matter  to  a  multitude  who  were  marveling  be- 
cause He  had  healed  one  of  their  number  from 
a  blind  and  deaf  spirit." 


38 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


"  Well,  for  my  part,  I  care  not  to  whom  He 
hath  allied  himself.  I  am  ready  for  anything 
wherein  is  a  prospect  of  plunder,"  exclaimed 
a  third.  "  But  what  causeth  the  tumult  which 
I  hear?  Stay!  I  will  see  in  a  moment."  And 
scrambling  up  a  tall  tree  which  grew  near,  he 
presently  called  down  to  his  companions  below: 
"  "Pis  a  wondrous  sight!  There  be  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  men,  with  women  and  chil- 
dren, both  riding  upon  beasts,  and  walking,— 
and  all  coming  this  way!" 

"  They  are  seeking  the  Man  yonder,"  said  Du- 
machus,  jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder. 
"  Now  thou  seest  that  I  spoke  truly!  Let  us  wait 
here,  and  see  what  shall  follow.  To-day  the 
time  may  be  ripe  for  action." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  a  man  broke  through  the 
bushes  near  at  hand.  He  half  started  back  in 
dismay,  when  his  eye  fell  upon  the  savage 
group;  but  regaining  his  confidence  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  the  rest  of  his  company  was  close 
at  hand,  he  advanced  and  called  out  in  a  loud 
voice: 

"  Have  any  of  you  knowledge  of  the  where- 
abouts of  the  Man  who  is  called  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth?" 

"  I  am  He,"  said  Dumachus  mockingly,  "  and 
these  be  my  disciples.  What  dost  thou  require 
of  us?" 

The  man  stared;  while  the  others  burst  into  a 
great  roar  of  laughter  at  his  discomfiture. 

"The  Nazarene  is  yonder  on  the  hilil"  roared 
Dumachus  finally,  seeing  that  he  was  about  to 
run. 

The  man  glanced  upward,  and  then  cried  out 
joyfully  to  those  below,  "  He  is  here!  Come  this 
way!" 

In  a  moment  two— three — a  dozen  men  had 
pushed  through  the  bushes,  and  with  glad  cries 
pressed  up  the  hill.  These  were  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  an  indiscriminate  throng  of  men, 
women,  and  children— all  hurrying— pushing- 
struggling  upward.  Dumachus  and  his  men 
joined  the  multitude,  shouting  lustily  for  the 
great  Healer  as  they  maliciously  trampled  down 
some  of  the  weaker  ones  in  the  throng. 

Meanwhile  Jesus,  with  His  chosen  followers, 
was  resting  quietly  in  a  little  nook  of  the  moun- 
tain slope.  Faint,  and  exhausted  with  uninter- 
rupted toil  and  excitement,  they  had  sought  this 
peaceful  solitude  for  a  little  time  of  rest.  As 
the  first  sound  of  the  approaching  multitude 
reached  their  ears,  Peter  was  on  his  feet  in  an 
instant,  and  springing  to  the  top  of  a  high  rock, 
he  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  looked  off 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  noise  came. 

"  What  is  it?  What  seest  thou?"  cried  half  a 
dozen  voices  anxiously. 

Peter  scrambled  down  from  his  lofty  perch 
without  replying,  and  approaching  the  Master. 


who  sat  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  His  eyes 
fixed  peacefully  on  the  wide  landscape,  he 
said: 

"  Master,  I  see  a  great  multitude  approaching. 
They  seek  thee.  'Shall  we  not  escape  them 
while  yet  there  is  time?  We  can  withdraw 
further  up  the  mountain,  or  take  to  our  boats 
again." 

Jesus  made  no  answer,  but  rising,  moved  to- 
ward the  edge  of  the  slope,  and  looked  down. 
The  noise  was  louder  now,  and  floated  up  to 
Him  in  a  confused  roaring  like  to  the  sound  of 
the  sea.  Already  the  bright  colors  of  the  moving 
masses  could  be  seen  through  the  green  foliage; 
in  another  moment  the  throng  would  be  upon 
them.  He  sighed  deeply,  and  murmured  with  a 
look  of  divine  compassion: 

"  They  are  as  sheep  having  no  shepherd!" 

"  Master,  thou  art  sorely  in  need  of  rest;  wilt 
thou  not  come?"  again  urged  Peter. 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  the  crest  of  the  first 
wave  of  that  ocean  of  wretched  humanity  broke 
sobbing  at  their  feet. 

The  hours  that  followed  wrere  crowded,  as 
were  always  His  hours  upon  earth.  Verily,  "  He 
had  a  work  to  perform,  and  how  was  He  strait- 
ened till  He  should  perform  it."  He  healed  those 
that  had  need  of  healing;  after  that  He  taught 
them  many  things  concerning  the  kingdom  of 
God. 

And  now  the  day  was  far  spent,  and  the  shad- 
ows were  lengthening  upon  the  mountains.  Still 
the  people  lingefed,  listening  to  His  words,  while 
only  the  fitful  cry  of  a  tired  or  hungry  child 
broke  the  hush. 

The  disciples,  who  had  been  holding  a  whis- 
pered consultation,  now  came  to  Him;  and  one 
of  them,  who  was  called  Philip,  said: 

"  Master,  this  is  a  desert  place,  and  it  is 
already  late;  wilt  thou  not  send  the  people  away, 
that  they  may  go  into  the  country  round  about 
and  buy  themselves  bread?  for  they  have  noth- 
ing to  eat." 

And  He  said:    "  Give  ye  them  to  eat." 

"  Two  hundred  pennyworth  of  bread  would 
not  be  sufficient,  that  every  one  of  them  might 
take  a  little.  How  then  can  we  give  them  to 
eat?"  answered  Philip. 

"  How  many  loaves  have  ye?  Go  and  see." 
said  the  Master. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Andrew.  Presently  he  re- 
turned. "  There  is  a  lad  here,  which  hath  five 
barley  loaves  and  two  small  fishes;  but  what 
are  they  among  so  many!" 

"  Make  the  people  to  sit  down  on  the  grass  by 
companies,"  was  the  answer. 


But  what  of  Dumachus  and  his  fellows,  on  this 
memorable  afternoon?    Having  crowded  them- 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  TEE  CEOSS. 


39 


selves,  by  means  of  brute  force,  into  a  place 
where  they  could  both  see  and  hear  to  the  best 
advantage,  they  had  stared  with  open  mouths 
and  many  a  muttered  oath,  as  the  Master  healed 
the  sick  and  injured  which  were  brought  unto 
Him.  But  when  He  began  to  talk  to  the  people, 
one  by  one  they  had  slipped  away— save  Gestas, 
He,  the  day  being  warm,  and  himself  very 
comfortable  as  he  lounged  back  against  a  tree, 
had  sunken  into  a  doze,  and  from  a  doze  had 
passed  into  a  heavy  slumber;  and  as  the  Master 
spake  the  words  of  eternal  life,  he  sat  with  head 
sunken  upon  his  breast.  His  ears  were  heavy 
and  he  did  not  hear. 

"  What  is  He  going  to  do  now?"  was  the  ques- 
tion which  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  when  the 
multitude  were  bidden  by  the  disciples  to  sit 
down  by  hundreds,  and  by  fifties.  Every  eye 
was  fastened  upon  Him,  as  He  took  the  five 
loaves  and  the  two  fishes;  and  as  He  looked  up 
to  heaven  and  blessed  them,  and  began  to  break 
them  into  fragments  to  give  to  the  disciples  for 
distribution,  the  wonder  grew.  Awe-stricken 
they  watched.  Behold!  under  those  gracious 
hands  the  loaves  multiplied  themselves!  Again, 
and  yet  ag^ain,  and  many  times  over,  the  twelve 
returned  to  Him  for  fresh  supplies,  till  at  last 
all  of  the  five  thousand  men,  together  with  the 
women  and  children,  had  been  fully  satisfied. 

After  all  had  eaten,  the  Master  gave  command 
that  the  remnants  of  the  feast  should  be  gath- 
ered up,  that  nothing  might  be  lost.  And  they 
took  up  of  the  fragments  that  remained,  twelve 
baskets  full. 

Duniachus  and  his  followers  had  eaten  also. 
"  Thou  art  right,"  said  one  of  them,  who  was 
called  Gaius.  "  This  is  the  man  for  our  king;  if 
He  can  make  for  us  barley  loaves  and  broiled 
fish,  could  He  not  give  us  honey  and  wine  in 
abundance,  and  other  good  things  also?  Let  us 
even  now  crown  Him!" 

And  the  Jews,  moreover,  which  saw  it,  said, 
"  This  is,  of  a  truth,  that  prophet  which  should 
come  into  the  world;  for,  behold,  He  hath  fed 
us  in  the  wilderness,  even  as  Moses  fed  our 
fathers." 

But  He  knew  their  thoughts;  and  directing  His 
disciples  to  get  into  the  boat  and  go  unto  Beth- 
saida,  which  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake, 
He  commanded  the  people  that  they  should  de- 
part quietly,  and  go  each  man  to  his  own  house. 
Then  He,  Himself,  went  alone  up  into  the  mount- 
ain to  pray. 

Now  while  some  of  the  people  obeyed  Him, 
and  departed,  even  as  He  had  bidden  them, 
many  lingered,  hoping  that  He  would  presently 
come  again  into  their  midst,  for  they  had  seen 
the  disciples  go  away  in  the  boat,  and  knew  that 
He  was  not  with  them.  And  as  they  waited,  the 
wonder  and  excitement  grew  apace,  till  at 


length,  Dumachus,  seeing  the  temper  of  their 
minds,  sprang  upon  a  lofty  rock,  and  thus  ad- 
dressed the  throng: 

"Galileans!"  he  shouted,  "hear  me!  Thou 
hast  seen  how  this  Man  hath  been  able  to  create 
before  our  very  eyes,  and  from  nothing  visible, 
an  abundance  of  food  for  this  great  multitude. 
If  He  is  able  to  do  this,  think  ye  not  that  from 
the  grass  of  this  place  He  could  presently  make 
swords  enough  to  arm  every  man  of  us?  Let  us 
make  Him  our  king!  Then  will  we  sweep  down 
from  the  mountains,  gathering  in  the  people 
from  every  town,  and  city,  and  village.  Nothing 
can  stand  before  us!  The  Romans  shall  flee! 
Their  rich  palaces  shall  be  a  prey  unto  us!  Hail 
to  the  Nazarene!  Hail!  Hail  to  the  Nazarene! 
Hail  to  the  King!" 

When  the  people  heard  this,  there  arose  a 
mighty  cry,  which  rang  out  over  the  waters  of 
the  lake,  and  rolled  back  to  the  mountains,  re- 
verberating in  thunderous  echoes  to  the  very 
stars. 

To  a  solitary  figure,  far  above  on  the  mountain 
heights,  that  cry  brought  the  old,  subtle  temp- 
tation of  the  wilderness.  The  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  the  glory  of  them!  A  throne — and  not 
a  cross!  But  the  victory  had  been  won,  once 
and  forever.  He  saw,  in  the  sure  light  of  eter- 
nity, His  earthly  road,  and  it  led  to  Calvary. 

"  Now  it  was  dark,  and  the  ship  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  sea,  and  He  alone  on  the  land.  And 
the  sea  arose  by  reason  of  a  great  wind  that 
blew.  And  He  saw  them  toiling  in  rowing;  for 
the  wind  was  contrary;  and  about  the  fourth 
watch  of  the  night  He  cometh  unto  them  walk- 
ing upon  the  sea,  and  would  have  passed  them 
by.  But  when  they  saw  Him  walking  upon  the 
sea,  they  supposed  it  had  been  a  spirit,  and  cried 
out;  for  they  all  saw  Him  and  were  troubled. 
And  immediately  He  spoke  and  said  unto  them, 
Be  of  good  cheer;  it  is  I;  be  not  afraid.  And 
Peter  answered  Him  and  said,  Lord,  if  it  be 
thou,  bid  me  come  unto  thee  on  the  water.  And 
He  said,  Come.  And  when  Peter  was  come 
down  out  of  the  ship,  he  walked  upon  the  water 
to  go  to  Jesus.  But  when  he  saw  the  wind 
boisterous,  he  was  afraid;  and  beginning  to 
sink,  he  cried,  saying,  Lord,  save  me!  And  im- 
mediately Jesus  stretched  forth  His  hand  and 
caught  him,  and  said  unto  him,  Oh,  thou  of 
little  faith!  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?  And 
when  they  were  come  into  the  ship,  the  wind 
ceased.  Then  they  that  were  in  the  ship  came 
and  worshiped  Him,  saying,  Of  a  truth,  thou  art 
the  Son  of  God!" 


40 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


TELL  thee  that  He  is  not  to  be 
found  upon  the  mountain."  The 
speaker  was  Dumachus,  and  he 
was  addressing  a  motley  crowd 
of  Galileans.  "  My  men  know 
every  inch  of  the  region  here- 
abouts, and  they  have  made 
thorough  search." 

"  There  was  no  boat,  so  that  He  could  have 
gotten  away  by  the  lake,"  said  another.  "  He 
must  have  gone  over  the  mountain,  and  de- 
scended upon  the  other  side;  in  that  case  we 
cannot  find  Him,  for  the  present.  It  may  be  that 
He  will  stop  in  the  villages;  'tis  His  wont." 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  Capernaum,  for  it  is  there 
His  disciples  dwell;  He  will  be  there  sooner  or 
later,"  suggested  a  third. 

And  seeing  drawn  up  on  the  beach  below, 
some  great  barges  from  Tiberias,  which  had 
been  driven  out  of  their  course  by  the  storm  of 
the  night  before,  as  many  as  were  able  crowded 
into  them,  and  a  few  hours  later  landed  in 
Capernaum. 

As  they  made  their  way  up  into  the  city,  they 
perceived  that  there  was  a  great  noise  and  con- 
fusion, people  hurrying  in  crowds  through  the 
narrow  streets,  or  gathered  in  dense  throngs  in 
the  market-places. 

"What  is  the  ado,  neighbors?"  shouted  Du- 
machus, as  they  paused  near  one  of  these  knots 
of  people. 

"  We  have  just  landed,  and  are  seeking  the 
Miracle- worker;  dost  know  His  whereabouts?" 

Two  or  three  had  turned  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  and  now  one  answered  eagerly:  "The 
Nazarene  is  here.  He  came  this  morning,  and 
hath  wrought  many  signs  and  wonders  in  our 
midst.  For  as  He  passed  through  the  villages 
of  the  plain,  people  brought  out  their  sick  and 
laid  them  in  the  streets  that  they  might  touch 
the  border  of  His  garments;  and  as  many  as 
touched  were  made  whole.  Afterward  He  came 
to  Capernaum,  and  the  whole  country-side  hath 
followed  Him  thither.  Is  not  this  Man  He  that 
should  save  Israel?" 

"  He  can  assuredly  work  wonders;  and  why 
not  to-day  wonders  greater  than  any  we  have 
yet  seen?"  answered  Dumachus,  cunningly. 
"  Let  us  seek  Him,  and  see  if  He  will  not  pres- 
ently give  us  some  sign  that  shall  be  greater 
than  the  healing  of  these  sick  folk.  Let  Him 
give  us  an  abundance  of  gold  and  treasure; 
and  let  Him  take  these  fine  houses  and  lands 
from  the  rich,  and  give  them  to  us,  who  are  His 
servants.  Then  shall  we  delight  ourselves  in 
rivers  of  wine;  and  eat,  and  drink,  and  satisfy 
ourselves  with  pleasiires." 
"  If  He  be  the  Messiah,  He  will  do*  all  this. 


and  much  more,"  said  the  man.  "  It  hath  been 
promised  us  by  the  prophets.  Surely  the  time 
hath  come  for  Israel  to  claim  her  King;  and 
confusion  of  face  shall  be  to  all  heathen  who 
would  rule  over  us!" 

"Amen!  and  Amen!"  cried  they  that  heard 
him;  and  with  a  common  impulse,  all  began  to 
run  in  the  direction  of  the  synagogue,  for  it  was 
one  of  the  holy  days  of  the  week.*  "  We  shall 
doubtless  find  Him  there!"  they  said,  as  they 
hurried  along.  "  Let  us  hasten,  that  we  may 
speak  with  Him!" 

As  they  approached  the  place  of  worship,  the 
excitement  grew  more  and  more  intense;  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  move  in  the  dense  throng. 
The  synagogue  was  already  filled  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  though  the  hour  for  service  had  not 
yet  come — Scribes  and  Pharisees,  Sadducees  and 
Doctors  of  the  Law,  publicans,  fishermen  and 
laborers,  with  women  and  children— and  every 
tongue  employed  with  the  one  theme,  Jesus  of 
Nazareth. 

"  He  is  coming!  I  see  Him!  Make  room!" 
arose  from  one  and  another  of  the  multitude 
outside,  together  with  a  vast  uneasy  murmur  of 
sound.  • 

Dumachus  had  succeeded  in  elbowing  himself 
to  a  place  just  outside  the  door  of  the  syna- 
gogue through  which  the  Master  must  pass  to 
enter;  and  now,  when  he  saw  Him  ascending 
the  steps  with  His  disciples,  he  thrust  himself 
forward  rudely,  saying,  "  Rabbi,  when  earnest 
thou  hither,  and  how?  There  was  no  boat  for 
thee  to  cross  by." 

Jesus  looked  at  him;  then  turning,  He  glanced 
at  the  multitude.  Greed,  vulgar  curiosity,  mean 
self-interest,  ambition,  cruelty,  hatred,  unbelief 
—all  this  might  have  been  seen  by  any  keen- 
eyed  observer;  but  how,  think  you,  looked  the 
multitude  to  the  Reader  of  hearts? 

Then  He  spoke  slowly,  decisively:  "Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  seek  me,  not  because 
ye  perceived  the  signs;  but  because  ye  did  eat  of 
the  loaves  and  were  filled.  Strive  not  for  the 
bread  which  perisheth,  but  for  that  bread  which 
shall  abide  unto  life  eternal,  which  the  Son  of 
man  shall  give  to  you;  for  him  hath  God  the 
Father  sealed." 

Then  from  out  of  the  throng  came  another 
voice — a  clear  young  voice — and  the  question  was 
one  which  the  speaker  had  been  pondering  in 
his  heart  for  months:  "  What  shall  we  do,  that 
we  might  work  the  works  of  God?" 

And  the  Master  saw  the  face  of  the  questioner 
among  the  sinister  faces  which  surrounded  it, 
like  a  star  in  the  darkness  of  night;  he  saw,  and 


*Services  were  held  in  the  synagogue  on  Monday  and 
Thursday  of  each  week,  as  the  country  people  crme  to 
m;n-';et  on  those  days.  The  local  Sanhedrim  also  met 
thuu. 


TITUS,  A  COM  BADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


41 


knew  it  for  His  own.  And  looking  steadfastly 
into  the  clear  eyes  lifted  to  His,  He  answered: 
"  This  is  the  work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on 
Him  whom  He  hath  sent." 

"  What  sign  showest  thou  then,"  broke  in  the 
brutal  voice  of  Dumachus,  "  that  we  may  see, 
and  believe  thee?  What  dost  thou  work?" 

And  a  turbaned  Rabbi,  who  stood  near,  added 
cunningly:    "  Our  fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the 
desert;    as    it    is    written,    He 
gave  them  bread  from  heaven 
to  eat." 

The  Master  made  answer: 
"  Of  a  truth  I  tell  you  that 
Moses  gave  you  not  bread  from 
heaven.  But  my  Father  giveth 
you  now  the  true  bread  from 
heaven;  for  the  bread  of  God 
is  He  which  cometh  down  from 
heaven,  and  giveth  life  unto 
the  world." 

"  Like  the  benediction  after 
prayer  "  came  again  the  clear 
tones  of  the  boy's  voice:  "  Lord, 
evermore  give  us  this  bread!" 

Then  the  Master  passed  into 
the  sanctuary,  and  the  solemn 
hush  within  proclaimed  that 
the  service  had  begun. 

In  obedience  to  the  impera- 
tive commands  and  gestures  of 
those  in  authority,  the  crowd 
now  drew  back,  somewhat, 
from  the  entrance  and  ap- 
proaches to  the  synagogue;  and 
as  they  did  so,  a  clamor  of 
voices  broke  out. 

"  How  doth  He  say  that  He 
came  down  from  heaven?"  de- 
manded one.  "  We  know  who 
He  is;  He  is  Jesus  the  son  of 
Joseph,  from  Nazareth  yoa- 
der." 

"  He  came  down  from  heaven 
no  more  than  I  did,"  cried  an- 
other.   "I    am    a    silversmith;  . 
and  He  is  a  carpenter,  as  I  happen  to  know." 

"  Now  are  ye  wise,  good  people!"  said  a 
smooth-tongued  emissary  of  the  Sanhedrim. 
"  This  Man  hath  not  ceased  to  blaspheme  God, 
in  that  He  maketh  Himself  equal  with  God; 
and  as  for  coming  down  from  heaven,  He  hath 
a  devil  and  is  mad." 

"  If  He  be  not  mad,"  one  answered,  "  He  at 
least  is  not  the  Messiah,  as  we  hoped;  for  He 
hath  not  the  ways  of  a  king." 

"  'Twere  an  evil  heresy  to  so  suppose  Him," 
said  the  Rabbi  again.  "  Thou  shouldst  have 
studied  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  and  have 
listened  to  the  words  of  those  wiser  than  thou 


art.  This  fellow  is  dangerous  to  the  people, 
in  that  He  is  in  league  with  the  prince  of  dark- 
ness, and  doth  continually  work  iniquity." 

"  I  can  bear  it  no  longer!"  rang  out  a  clear 
voice.  "  Thou  liest,  and  that  foully,  when  thou 
sayest  such  things  of  the  Nazarene!" 

Every  one  started  and  turned  toward  the 
speaker.  "  Have  thy  say,  lad!"  shouted  two  or 
three,  delighted  with  the  fresh  excitement. 


"  Oh,  father!  have  mercy!" 

"  Now  shalt  thou  stand  here  and  an- 
swer the  worthy  Rabbi."  And  a  dozen 
hands  lifted  the  boy  to  the  top  of  a 
st,one  wall  near  at  hand,  so  that  he 
was  above  them,  and  in  sight  of  all. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  abashed;  then  the 
words  of  the  Rabbi  coming  back  to  him,  he  again 
flushed  red  in  his  boyish  indignation. 

"  Thou  sayest  that  He  hath  a  devil,"  he  cried. 
"Can  a  devil  do  such  works  as  doth  this  Man? 
For  thou  knowest  that  He  hath  healed  the  sick 
and  helpless;  He  hath  opened  the  eyes  of  the 
blind;  He  hath  cleansed  the  lepers;  and  even 
raised  the  dead  to  life!  He  hath  done  good,  and 
not  evil,  to  all  of  us.  And  how  canst  thou  say 
that  He  worketh  iniquity?" 

"  He  doth  blaspheme  God;  for  He  declareth 
that  He  is  the  Son  of  God,  and  hath  come  down 


42 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


from  heaven,"  answered  the  Rabbi  angrily. 
"  Cease  thy  prating,  foolish  boy,  ere  I  have  thee 
arrested  for  disturbing  the  peace!" 

"  Nay,  good  master!  Let  the  lad  have  his  say, 
even  as  thou  hast  had  thine;  we  will  answer  for 
him!"  cried  half  a  dozen  at  once. 

"  Thou  knowest  Him  not,"  said  the  boy.  "  He 
came  down  from  heaven;  and  He  worketh  even 
as  He  is  bidden  by  the  Father,  who  dwells  on 
high." 

"  Then  let  Him  give  us  a  sign,  and  He  shall 
be  our  king!"  shouted  a  man  in  the  outskirts  of 
the  crowd. 

"  Hath  He  not  given  you  signs  in  abundance? 
I  am  one  of  them!  Behold,  I  was  a  cripple,  and 
He  healed  me  with  a  word,  so  that  I  am  as 
straight  and  strong  as  any  of  you." 

"Who  art  thou?"  cried  a  rough  voice.  "By 
all  the  gods!  I  believe  it  is  my  own  boy, 
Stephen!  Here,  let  me  come  near,  that  I  may 
make  sure."  And  the  man  began  elbowing  his 
way  toward  the  lad. 

The  boy  had  grown  deathly  pale;  he  stood 
irresolute  for  a  moment,  then  jumped  down 
from  the  wall,  and  advanced  through  the  crowd, 
which  opened  to  let  him  pass. 

"  Thou  art  my  boy,  Stephen!  And  straight  and 
strong!  Nay,  but  I  can  scarce  believe  it!"  said 
Dumachus,  grasping  the  lad  by  the  arm.  "  Now, 
by  all  the  powers  of  Olympus!  I  will  make  a 
man  of  thee;  for  I  like  thy  spirit!  Come  along 
with  me." 

They  walked  along  for  a  moment  in  silence; 
then  Dumachus  broke  out  with  a  savage  oath: 
"  Why  dost  thou  not  speak?  Art  thou  not  glad 
to  see  thy  father?  Thy  mother  hath  taught  theo 
to  hate  me;  and  I  cared  not  as  long  as  thou 
wert  a  helpless  cripple.  But  now  thou  shalt 
know  that  thou  hast  a  father,  and  must  obey 
him." 

"  My  mother  did  not  teach  me  to  hate  thee," 
said  Stephen  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Nay,  thou  dost  whine  like  a  woman!  Speak 
up,  as  thou  didst  but  just  now  to  that  purse- 
proud  Rabbi;  thou  didst  answer  him  boldly. 
And  so  the  Nazarene  healed  thee,  did  He?  Tell 
me  how  it  was." 

Stephen's  face  lighted  up  again  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  Master,  and  he  poured  forth  his 
story  eagerly,  almost  forgetting  his  listener  for 
the  moment 

"  So  that  was  the  way  of  it!"  said  Duma- 
chus, running  his  fingers  through  his  shaggy 
locks.  "  Now  the  Nazarene,  if  He  would  do 
that  for  thee,  will  do  more;  dost  thou  not  think 
it?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Stephen  joyfully,  remember- 
ing the  look  in  the  Master's  eyes,  as  He  an- 
swered him  from  the  synagogue  steps. 

"  Then  thou  shalt  ask  Him  for  gold,  Stephen, 


lad;  and  we  will  buy  us  a  vineyard  and  a  house, 
and  live  like  the  Romans." 

"  I  think  that  He  is  very  poor,"  said  Stephen, 
hesitatingly.  "  I  should  not  like  to  ask  Him  for 
gold." 

"  He  can  make  it,  boy.  Did  I  not  see  Him 
make  out  of  five  little  loaves,  and  two  small 
fishes,  food  enough  to  glut  five  thousand?  He 
hath  made  a  compact  with  the  foul  fiend,  and 
he  helpeth  Him  to  do  these  wonders." 

Stephen  started  back  in  horror,  and  fixed  his 
eyes  on  his  father's  face.  "  I  cannot  talk  with 
thee.  father,  if  thou  sayest  such  things!" 

"  Cannot  talk  with  me!"  said  Dumachus  mock- 
ingly. "  And  how  wilt  thou  help  thyself,  my 
fine  fellow?  But  now  shalt  thou  tell  me  where 
I  can  find  Titus."  And  his  face  darkened 
ominously.  "Answer!  Dost  thou  know  where 
he  is?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  where  he  is— but— I  shall  not 
tell  thee." 

"What!"  roared  Dumachus,  grasping  the  boy 
by  the  shoulder  so  roughly  that  he  almost  lost 
his  balance.  "  Dost  thou  dare  to  defy  me!— 
thine  own  father!" 

"  Father!"  said  Stephen,  fixing  his  steady 
dark  eyes  on  the  man's  face,  "  I  would  gladly 
render  thee  my  obedience,  but  when  Titus  came 
back  after  being  with  thee  and  the  men,  he  told 
me  that  thou  didst  compel  him  to  take  part  in 
horrible  crimes;  in  that  thou  didst  him  a  great 
wrong.  He  is  safe  now,  and  hath  an  honest 
employment." 

"  An  honest  employment,  hath  he!"  broke  in 
Dumachus,  with  a  sneering  laugh;  then  sud- 
denly, with  a  savage  look,  he  turned.  "  Thou 
wert  a  cripple;  and  now  thou  art  recovered,  by 
the  diabolical  arts  of  yonder  fellow  from  Naz- 
areth. But  listen!— if  thou  dost  not  presently 
tell  me  where  Titus  is  to  be  found,  I  will  do  that 
to  thee  which  will  put  thee  beyond  cure!  Aye! 
look  about  thee  as  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  not 
escape  me!" 

Stephen  had  cast  a  furtive  look  around;  and 
realized,  with  horror,  that  his  father  had  been 
'so  directing  their  steps  during  the  conversation, 
that  they  were  now  in  a  lonely  spot  outside  the 
city  walls. 

"  Wilt  thou  tell  me?"  he  continued,  suddenly 
dropping  his  threatening  tone.  "  Then  will  we 
be  friends  and  comrades.  I  swear  it.  Thou  art 
no  better  than  a  baby;  but  thou  shalt  go  with 
me,  and  learn  to  be  a  man.  Now  what  thinkest 
thou  of  this?"  and  he  drew  from  under  his  tunic 
a  gold  chain  of  fine  Etruscan  workmanship. 
"  This  shall  be  thine,  and  many  other  things 
as  well;  for  am  I  not  chief,  and  art  not  thou 
mine  only  son?" 

"Thine  only  son!"  echoed  Stephen  in  sur- 
prise, "  Is  not  Titus—" 


WTUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


47 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

OWARD  the  close  of  an  early 
spring  day,  two  travelers  were 
toiling  up  the  steep  rocky  path, 
which  led  to  the  little  mountain 
village  of  Nazareth.  The  way 
was  rough  and  difficult,  and  tho 
woman  sighed  painfully,  as  she 
moved  slowly  onward:  the  boy, 
hearing  the  long-drawn  breath, 
turned  and  looked  anxiously  at 
her  face,  which  gleamed  white 
in  the  waning  light. 

"  Thou  art  weary,  mother,  too  weary;  we 
should  have  stopped  for  the  night  in  the  village 
below.  Sit  here,  and  rest  awhile." 

With  a  sigh  of  relief,  the  woman  sank  down 
on  the  rough  stone  which  the  boy  had  covered 
with  his  sheep-skin  coat.  "  Yes,"  she  said  at 
length,  with  another  long-drawn  breath,  which 
was  almost  a  groan,  "I  am  very  tired;  my 
strength  faileth  me  for  toiling  up  these  hills." 

"  Thou  wilt  feel  better  presently,  when  thou 
hast  had  time  to  rest,"  said  the  boy  tenderly. 
"  We  have  wandered  too  widely  of  late;  it  may 
be  that  we  can  bide  in  yonder  village  till  thou 
art  stronger.  Is  it  not  beautiful  here!  See  the 
hills,  how  green  they  are;  and  the  flowers— let 
me  gather  some  for  thee  while  thou  art  resting." 
The  woman  smiled  patiently.  "  Dost  thou 
not  need  to  rest,  my  Stephen?  We  have  yet  a 
hard  climb  before  us,  to  reach  the  town." 

"  I  am  never  tired  now,  mother,"  said  the 
boy,  gayly,  springing  up  as  he  spoke. 

The  mother's  eyes  followed  him  fondly,  as  he 
climbed  a  steep  bank  for  some  bright-hued 
blossoms,  which  nodded  temptingly  from  be- 
tween the  rocks.  "  Ah,  the  dear  one!"  she  mur- 
mured to  herself.  "  He  is  almost  a  man  now, 
but  he  hath  the  heart  of  a  loving  child  still." 

"  Look,  mother!"  said  the  lad  as  he  laid  a 
great  sheaf  of  blossoms  in  her  lap.  "  Here  are 
roses— pink,  white  and  yellow;  are  they  not 
sweet?  And  cyclamen  and  mignonette  too,  and 
these  tiny  yellow  flowers,  like  little  stars.  In 
the  village  yonder,  thou  seest  that  every  house 
hath  its  garden;  from  the  high  rock  where  I 
gathered  these  pink  roses,  I  could  see  the  scarlet 
blossoms  of  the  pomegranate,  and  orange  trees 
as  white  as  snow.  Wouldst  thou  not  like  it  to 
live  in  such  a  spot?  I  can  work  hard  now,  and 
surely  I  could  earn  enough  to  buy  bread  for  the 
two  of  us."  After  a  pause,  he  added  dreamily: 
"  Nazareth  is  where  He  lived;  we  shall  see  His 
home." 

"  I  think,  my  Stephen,"  said  his  mother  pres- 
ently, "  that  we  must  hasten  on  our  way;  for 
the  sun  hath  gone  down  an  hour  since,  and  tho 
night  will  soon  be  upon  us." 


"  Thou  art  right,  mother,"  answered  the  boy, 
springing  up.  "  Let  me  help  thee." 

Half  an  hour  more  of  hard  climbing  brought 
the  travelers  to  the  edge  of  the  village.  Here, 
where  the  water  from  a  spring  in  the  hillside 
gushed  forth  with  a  musical  tinkle  into  a  stone 
trough  below,  the  woman  stopped  short. 

"  I  can  go  no  further,"  she  said  faintly,  sinking 
down  on  the  grass.  "  I  am  ill." 

"  Oh,  mother,"  cried  Stephen,  "  we  are  almost 
there  now!  Let  me  give  thee  some  of  this 
water;  it  will  revive  thee." 

But  the  woman  made  no  reply.  Her  head 
had  fallen  back  against  the  grassy  bank  behind 
her;  and  the  boy,  as  he  bent  over  her,  saw  with 
terror  that  she  was  unconscious. 

"What  shall  I  do!"  he  cried  aloud,  wringing 
his  hands  helplessly.  "  Mother,  oh,  mother!" 

"  She  hath  fainted,"  said  a  voice  near  him. 
"  Let  me  give  her  water." 

He  looked  up,  and  saw  standing  at  his  side  a 
woman,  bearing  on  her  shoulder  a  water-pot. 
This  she  hastily  dipped  into  the  fountain,  then 
stooping  over  the  prostrate  form,  sprinkled  the 
white  face  with  the  fresh,  cool  water. 

"  There!  She  is  reviving.  She  will  soon  be 
herself  again!"  said  the  new-comer.  "  Fill  thy 
cup  with  the  water,  and  give  her  to  drink." 

Stephen  obeyed,  and  to  his  great  joy  his 
mother  sat  up  and  looked  about  her;  but  almost 
immediately  she  sank  back  again,  moaning 
faintly. 

"  Hast  thou  friends  in  the  village?"  asked  the 
woman,  looking  at  the  lad. 

"  Nay,"  said  Stephen.  "  We  were  going  to 
the  inn.*  Is  it  far  from  here?"  he  added  anx- 
iously. 

"  'Tis  in  the  upper  street;  too  far  for  her  to 
walk  to-night,"  was  the  answer.  "  But  my 
house  is  near,"— pointing  as  she  spoke,  to  where 
a  faint  light  twinkled  through  the  dark  foliage. 
"  If  thou  wilt  help  me  to  get  her  on  to  her  feet, 
a  few  steps  will  bring  us  to  the  door.  Thou 
shalt  bide  with  me  for  the  night." 

"  Thou  art  good,"  said  Stephen  gratefully, 
"  and  I  thank  thee  heartily." 

Between  them  they  helped  the  exhausted 
Prisca  up,  and  supported  her  tottering  steps  till 
they  reached  the  cottage,  which  was,  as  the 
woman  had  said,  close  at  hand. 

"  She  sleeps,  and  will  be  better  by  morning," 
said  their  hostess  as  she  came  from  the  little 
bedchamber,  where  she  had  been  ministering 
to  the  wants  of  her  guest,  into  the  room  where 
Stephen  was  waiting. 

He  had  had  time  to  look  about  him,  and  saw 
that,  while  the  appointments  of  this  home  were 
very  humble,  it  was  as  daintily  pure  and  neat 

*A  lodging  place  for  travelers. 


48 


T1TU8,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


as  a  flower.  And  now  he  looked  more  closely 
at  the  woman  herself.  She  was  tall  and  of 
noble  proportions;  and  though  past  middle  age. 
her  face  was  beautiful,  with  its  clear,  hazel 
eyes,  firm  yet  tender  mouth,  and  waving  red- 
dish-brown hair,  slightly  tinged  with  gray. 

"  Thou  too  art  weary,"  she  continued,  with  a 
smile  which  irradiated  her  face  like  sunshine. 
"  Thou  must  eat,  then  thou  shalt  sleep  also.'' 
So  saying,  she  set  be- 
fore the  boy  a 
wooden  bowl  con- 
taining milk,  and 
some  cakes  of  barley 
bread.  "  Tell  me," 
she  said,  when  the 
boy  had  finished, 
"  how  is  it  that  ye 
are  traveling  alon<s 
and  so  far  from 
home?  For  thy 
mother  telleth  me 
that  ye  dwell  in 
Capernaum." 

Thus  encouraged. 
The  boy  poured  forth 
the  whole  story,  tell 
ing  at  length  the 
wondrous  tale  of  his 
healing  by  the  Naz- 
arene. 

"  We  had  to  go 
away  from  Caper 
naum,  as  thou  seest," 

he  said.  "  And  we  came  to  Nazareth,  be- 
cause I  wanted  to  see  His  home.  I  thought 


been  prudent  with  my  wages;  and  have  bought 
a  vineyard  of  mine  own,  whither  I  can  retire 
when  old  age  shall  overtake  me." 

The  speaker  was  Benoni,  and  he  was  sitting 
at  ease  on  a  bench  in  the  garden,  while  Titus 
stood  before  him  respectfully. 

The  lad  flushed  with  pleasure  at  these  words, 
but  he  made  no  reply,  for  he  saw  that  the  old 
man  had  more  to  say. 


Vieio  of  the  city  of  Nazareth. 

"  I  have  an  important  commission  for  thoc\" 
continued  Benoni,  "  and  I  entrust  it  to  thee  by 


perhaps  we  should  find  Him  here.    Dost  thou    special  request  from  the  most  noble  Jairus  him- 


know  this  Jesus?" 

The  woman's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  yet  again 
a  smile  transfigured  her  face,  kindling  it  to  a 
beauty  almost  divine. 

"  He  is  my  Son,"  she  said  simply.  "  And  this 
is  his  home." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HOU  hast  won  favor  in  the 
sight  of  thy  master,  young 
man;  I  will  tell  thee  that. 
As  for  myself,  thou  hast 
been  faithful  in  thy  duties 
above  most  that  have  come 
under  my  authority,  and  I 
am  disposed  to  befriend  thee. 
I  am  waxing  old  now,  and  the 
labors  of  mine  office  weigh 
heavily  upon  me.  If  thou 
dost  continue  to  do  well,  and  art  discreet  and 
wise,  I  see  no  reason  why  in  time  thou  shouldst 
not  become  steward  in  my  place.  For  I  have 


self— for  I  do  not  deny  that  I  should  have  se- 
lected another  to  perform  it.  Not  that  I  do  not 
trust  thee,  but  that  thou  lackest  wisdom,  by 
reason  of  thy  youth.  The  commission  is  this: 
that  thou  shouldst  visit  the  vineyard  which 
lieth  a  little  beyond  Tiberias,  carrying  with  thee 
the  moneys  which  shall  be  paid  to  the  man 
Caleb,  whom  thou  wilt  find  in  charge  of  the 
vineyard.  He  will  dispose  of  them  according 
to  the  directions  which  I  have  written  herein, 
and  which  thou  shalt  deliver  to  him  together 
with  this  bag.  In  the  bag  are  the  moneys 
of  which  I  spoke;  thou  must  secure  it  to 
thy  person,  and  go  heavily  armed.  I  shall 
place  at  thy  disposal  a  fleet-footed  mule,  and 
the  journey  can  be  made  between  now 
and  moonrise,  if  thou  gettest  speedily  on  thy 
way." 

"  I  shall  be  ready  within  half  an  hour,"  said 
Titus  briefly.  "  Thou  wilt  give  me  plain  direc- 
tions how  to  find  the  place?"  he  added. 

"  I  will  do  more,"  said  the  old  man,  looking 
thoughtful.  "  I  will  give  thee  Asa  for  company; 


TITTJS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


49 


he  knoweth  the  way,  for  he  hath  been  there 
many  times  on  the  like  errand." 

"  And  when  he  went  on  errands  of  the  like, 
went  he  alone,  or  did  another  go  with  him?" 
asked  Titus. 

"  He  went  alone,"  replied  the  old  man  un- 
guardedly. Then,  seeing  the  angry  flush  on  the 
cheek  of  Titus,  he  added  soothingly:  "Thou 
knowest  that  the  country  is  infested  with  rob- 
bers; surely  it  would  be  safer  for  two  than  for 
one." 

"  If  thou  canst  not  trust  me  to  go  alone,  I  will 


way,  should  we  be  unfortunate  enough  to  fall 
among  thieves.  I  can  imagine  him  with  his 
dignified  corpulence  in  the  grasp  of  such  an  one 
as  Dumachus." 

"  What  sayest  thou?"  asked  Benoni  abstract- 
edly. 

Titus  bit  his  lip.  "  'Tis  time  for  me  to  be  off, 
good  Benoni,"  he  said.  "  And  if  it  please  thee, 
I  would  not  be  burdened  with  the  company  of 
the  worthy  Asa," 

"  AVell,  thou  shalt  have  thy  way  in  the  matter; 
and  may  Jehovah  protect  thee." 


"Art  thou  refreshed,  my  pretty  lad?"'1  said  one. 


not  go  at  all;  let  old  Asa  take  the  bag,  and  go 
as  heretofore." 

"  Nay,  nay,  lad!  Now  art  thou  in  an  un- 
soenily  temper;  thou  must  bridle  thy  tongue 
and  thy  temper  if  thou  wouldst  do  well.  Did  I 
not  tell  thee  that  I  trusted  thee?  Nay,  more — 
I  love  thee,  lad,  as  if  thou  wert  mine  own  son; 
but  something  tells  me  that  thou  shouldst  not 
go  forth  alone  to-day." 

"  But  am  I  not  strong?— fit  to  meet  robbers  if 
there  be  any?"  demanded  Titus,  drawing  him- 
self up  to  his  full  height,  and  throwing  back  his 
broad  shoulders.  "  I  know  the  ways  of  robbers 
and  their  haunts  better  than  thou  thinkest,  my 
good  Benoni,"  he  added  to  himself;  then  aloud, 
"  The  excellent  Asa  would  actually  be  in  the 


"'Tis  a  pious  wish,  assuredly;  and  I  will 
back  it  up  with  my  stout  staff  and  a  brace  of 
knives,"  said  Titus,  laughing. 

But  old  Benoni  shook  his  head.  "  'Tis  a  pity 
that  thou  art  a  Gentile,  lad;  thy  words  savor  of 
heathendom." 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  young  man,  mounted 
on  a  strong  and  speedy  mule,  was  clattering 
out  of  the  great  courtyard;  the  money-bag 
securely  bound  about  his  waist  under  his  tunic, 
his  wallet  well-stocked  with  lunch,  and  a  couple 
of  formidable-looking  knives  thrust  into  his 
belt.  "  I  shall  be  back  long  before  moonrise. 
Fare  thee  well!"  And  he  waved  his  hand  at 
Benoni,  with  a  gay  laugh  at  his  anxious  face. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  as  he  went  back 


50 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


into  the  house,  and  muttered  to  himself:  "  My 
heart  inisgiveth  me  in  the  matter;  someone 
should  have  gone  with  the  lad." 

In  the  meantime  Titus  had  reached  the  gate  of 
the  city,  and  was  climbing  the  stony  bridle  path 
which  led  to  the  hill  road.  It  was  a  blithe 
spring  morning;  the  sunshine  lay  warm  and 
bright  on  fields  and  vineyards,  green  with  that 
vivid  emerald  tint  seen  in  that  country  only  in 
spring.  The  roadsides  were  gay  with  blossoms, 
pink,  yellow  and  blue,  over  which  floated  great 
butterflies— living  blossoms.  Birds,  busy  with 
nest-building,  flitted  hither  and  thither  in  hedges 
and  thickets,  while  overhead  the  lark  "  flooded 
a  thousand  acres  of  sky  with  melody." 

Titus,  drew  in  long  breaths  of  the  fragrant 
air,  then  throwing  back  his  curly  head,  he  too 
began  to  sing  lustily.  Assuredly  'twere  a 
good  thing  to  be  alive  and  young,  on  such  a 
morning. 

Towards  noon,  he  began  to  leave  behind  the 
regions  of  vineyards  and  cultivated  fields  alive 
with  busy  peasants,  and  entered  upon  a  com- 
paratively unsettled  and  desolate  tract  of 
country.  Here  the  narrow  road,  or  bridle  track 
—for  it  was  little  more — wound  among  rugged 
hills,  amid  dense  thickets  of  oleander,  tamarisk 
and  wild  olive  trees.  Titus  knew  the  place  well. 
He  was  silent  now  and  alert  Presently  he 
stopped,  and  fastening  the  mule,  crept  cau- 
tiously through  the  underbrush  to  a  little  open 
space,  which  was  perfectly  concealed  from  the 
roadway.  Here  a  tiny  spring,  clear  as  crystal 
and  ice-cold,  gushed  out  of  the  side  of  the  hill, 
trickled  into  a  rocky  basin  beneath,  then  over- 
flowing, lost  itself  among  the  flowers  and 
grasses,  which  grew  lush  and  rank  in  this 
favored  spot. 

Titus  laid  his  ear  to  the  ground  and  listened; 
then  he  climbed  a  tall  oak  and  looked  out  over 
the  forest.  From  his  lofty  perch,  he  could  see 
the  road  by  which  he  had  come,  winding  like  a 
narrow  ribbon  along  the  side  hill;  the  fresh 
green  leaves  dancing  in  the  sunshine;  glimpses 
of  blue  water  hundreds  of  feet  below  him;  while 
out  and  away,  beyond  the  hills  flecked  with 
shadows,  lay  Hermon  like  a  snowy  cloud 
on  the  far  horizon.  He  slid  down  the  tree  well 
satisfied;  and  pushing  through  the  branches, 
seized  the  bridle  of  the  mule. 

"  Thou  shalt  have  water,  and  that  the  best 
thou  hast  ever  tasted!"  he  cried  cheerily,  slap- 
ping the  sleek  neck  of  the  animal;  then  having 
attended  to  the  wants  of  the  beast,  he  dropped 
down  on  the  soft  turf  and  began  to  refresh  him- 
self with  the  contents  of  his  wallet. 

The  spot  was  deliciously  cool  and  sweet,  and 
the  silence  broken  only  by  the  distant  twitter 
of  birds,  the  trickling  of  the  water,  and  the 
steady  munching  of  the  mule,  intent  upon  hin 


noonday  meal.  Titus  felt  a  soft  drowsiness 
stealing  over  him;  he  glanced  sleepily  at  his 
beast,  and  seeing  that  he  had  disposed  of  only 
about  half  of  his  provender,  he  stretched  him- 
self out  comfortably,  and,  pillowing  his  head 
on  his  arm,  fell  fast  asleep. 

How  long  he  slept  he  did  not  know,  but  he 
awaked  with  a  dim  sense  that  something  was 
wrong.  Moving  uneasily,  he  opened  his  eyes; 
then  the  full  extent  of  his  folly  burst  upon  him. 
He  was  bound  securely  hand  and  foot.  Against 
a  tree  trunk  near  by,  lounged  Dumachus,  re- 
garding him  With  a  hideous  leer  of  triumph, 
while  the  rest  of  the  band  stood,  or  sprawled 
at  full  length  on  the  ground,  around  him. 

His  awakening  was  the  signal  for  a  burst  of 
loud  laughter  and  mocking  jeers. 

"Art  thou  refreshed,  rny  pretty  youth?"  said 
one. 

And  another:  "  In  truth  we  did  not  think  to 
find  thee  here;  but  'tis  an  old  tryst,  and  well- 
known  to  thee.  Thou  wert  awaiting  us,  no 
doubt." 

Titus  made  an  ineffectual  struggle  to  free 
himself  from  his  bonds,  glaring  fiercely  at  his 
captors  as  he  did  so. 

"  With  thy  mule  and  thy  money-bag,  thou  art 
quite  a  pretty  prize,"  quoth  Dumachus,  grin- 
ning, and  shaking  the  bag  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  till  the  coins  within  clinked  musically. 

"  And  all  the  more  welcome,  since  we  have 
had  nothing  but  bad  luck  of  late,"  growled  an- 
other. 

"  We  must  push  on  to  Jerusalem  without 
further  delay;  if  all  goes  well  there,  we  shall 
soon  see  an  end  of  bad  hick,"  said  Dumachus. 
"  This,"— giving  the  bag  another  shake — "  will 
serve  us  for  the  present." 

"Shall  I  loose  the  lad?"  asked  Gaius,  with 
whom  Titus  had  always  been  a  prime  favorite. 

"Loose  him?  No!"  roared  Dumachus.  "I 
have  a  score  to  settle  with  him  first.  Some 
time  ago,"  he  added,  planting  himself  in  front 
of  Titus,  and  gazing  at  him  ferociously,  "  I  had 
occasion  to  scourge  my  son  Stephen  for  disobe- 
dience; whilst  I  was  so  scourging  him,  someone 
stunned  me  with  a  blow,  then  bound  me  hand 
and  foot  while  I  was  helpless." 

"Aye,  'twas  handsomely  done  too!"  broke  in 
Gaius  with  a  huge  laugh.  "  He  lay  there  shriek- 
ing like  a  demoniac,  till  I  myself  happened 
along  and  loosed  him.  By  my  faith!  he  was  so 
securely  bound,  that  he  might  have  lain  there 
yet,  had  the  dogs  spared  him." 

"  'Twas  the  fate  that  thou  didst  intend  for 
Stephen,"  said  Titus,  boiling  with  indignation 
at  the  remembrance. 

"  So  thou  wert  the  one  who  did  it!  I  knew 
it,  thou  dog  of  a  Jew!"  hissed  Dumachus 

Then,    quite    beside    himself    with    rages    he 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


51 


hurled  his  Ions,  two-edged  knife  at  the  helpless 
boy.  It  barely  missed  his  head,  striking  with  a 
dull  thud  the  bole  of  a  tree  just  behind  him, 
where  it  stuck  fast,  quivering  with  the  force  of 
the  blow. 

"What  dost  thou  mean,  man!"  cried  Gaius, 
starting  forward.  "  Wouldst  thou  murder  the 
lad  for  a  trifle  like  that?  Thine  own  son  too— 
as  thou  hast  always  declared." 

"  I  tell  thee  he  is  not  my  son.  He  is  an  ac- 
cursed Jew;  and  I  hate  him!"  shrieked  Durna- 
chus. 

"  'Tis  no  news  to  any  of  us,"  said  Gaius,  with 
a  short  laugh.  "  But  thou  shalt  not  murder  him, 
for  all  that.  What  sayest  thou?— Shall  I  loose 
him  and  let  him  go?  Or  shall  we  take  him 
with  us  to  Jerusalem?" 

"  We  will  take  him  to  Jerusalem."  said  Du- 
machus  sullenly,  pulling  his  knife  from  the 
trunk  of  the  tree,  and  cutting  the  cords  which 
bound  the  lad's  feet.  "  I  shall  ride  the  mule; 
as  for  this  fellow,  let  him  try  to  escape  me,  and 
I  will  kill  him  with  my  hands!" 

The  whole  party  was  presently  under  way; 
two  of  the  men  going  ahead  as  scouts,  Titus 
walking  with  bound  hands  between  two  of  the 
others,  while  the  remainder  of  the  band,  with 
Dumachus  riding  comfortably  on  the  mule  in 
their  midst,  brought  up  the  rear. 

Titus  was  too  much  wrapped  up  in  his  own 
unhappy  thoughts  to  pay  any  heed  to  Irs 
companions.  "  Fool  that  I  was,"  he  thought, 
"to  sleep  in  that  place  of  all  others!  But  I 
made  so  sure  that  they  were  nowhere  about. 
Why  did  I  not  take  the  other  road?  What  will 
Benoni  think  when  I  fail  to  come  to-night?— 
when  he  finds  that  I  never  reached  the  vine- 
yard with  the  money?  If  they  had  only  taken 
me  after  I  had  paid  it!"  And  he  groaned 
aloud. 

"  Do  the  cords  hurt  thy  wrists?"  asked  one 
of  the  men  kindly  enough. 

"  No,"  said  Titus  shortly;  then,  with  a  gleam 
of  hope,  "  Thou  wert  always  my  friend,  Gaius, 
—wilt  thou  not  help  me  to  escape?" 

"  Thou  talkest  like  a  fool,  boy!  Why  dost 
thou  wish  to  escape  from  us?  We  are  thy 
friends;  thou  hast  passed  many  a  merry  day 
in  our  company  ere  now.  Use  thy  wits  to 
placate  our  worthy  chief  yonder,  and  all  will 
yet  be  well  with  thee." 

"  Nay;  that  I  cannot  do,"  said  Titus  sullenly. 
"  He  hates  me;  and  for  my  part,  I  hate  him.  I 
wish  I  had  killed  him  the  day  he  beat  Stephen." 

"  The  world  might  have  spared  him,"  said  the 
man,  chuckling.  "  And  I  doftbt  not,  'twould 
have  been  better  for  him  in  the  end." 

After  a  pause,  Titus  turned  to  his  companion 
abruptly:  "Canst  thou  tell  me  who  I  am? 
Thou  didst  hear  him  twice  call  me  a  Jew." 


"Now  thou  askest  me  something  I  fain  would 
know  myself,"  replied  the  man  thoughtfully. 
"  For  I  doubt  not  that  a  handsome  sum  would 
be  paid  for  thy  return.  I  opine  that  thou  wert 
stolen  from  Jerusalem;  for  when  I  first  fell  in 
with  the  worthy  Dumachus,  he  had  recently 
come  from  Judea,  and  was  a  stranger  in  these 
parts.  Thou  wert  then  about  three  years  of 
age;  once  in  my  presence  thou  didst  strike 
Dumachus,  in  a  fit  of  puny  rage,  because  he 
called  himself  thy  father." 

Titus  made  no  reply.  "  I  am  glad  I  am  not 
the  son  of  yonder  brute,"  he  thought  gloomily 
to  himself.  "But  whose  son  am  I?  He  has 
taught  me  to  hate  the  Jews.  I  am  a  Je\v. 
Stephen  is  not  my  brother;  and  mother— is  not 
mother.  She  must  hate  me  too,  for  she  hath 
known  this  thing,  and  kept  it  from  me  all  these 
long  unhappy  years." 

It  was  night  now;  and  lifting  his  eyes,  he 
saw  the  moon  rising,  large  and  yellow,  behind 
the  dark  masses  of  the  hills.  The  hot  tears 
rose  to  his  eyes.  "  'Tis  moonrise.  Benoni  is 
expecting  me  now.  I  shall  not  come.  They  will 
think  me — a  thief!" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

HE  band  of  robbers, 
with  Titus  always  closely 
guarded,  pushed  on  as 
rapidly  as  possible  toward 
Jerusalem,  traveling  chief- 
ly at  night  by  the  light  of 
the  moon,  which  was  now 
at  its  full.  Daytimes  they 
skulked  in  thickets  or  ra- 
vines, lying  in  wait  for 
their  prey.  Several  unlucky  travelers  thus  fell 
into  their  clutches  during  the  journey;  these 
were  promptly  stripped  of  their  possessions, 
their  subsequent  fate  depending  upon  their  be- 
havior during  the  stripping  process.  If  they 
submitted  quietly,  they  were  allowed  to  go, 
albeit  half  naked.  But  woe  to  the  man  who 
dared  to  resist,  or  make  any  outcry!  A  dozen 
ready  knives  quickly  quieted  him,  the  wicked 
old  saying,  "  Dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  being  a 
favorite  maxim  with  Dumachus. 

At  dawn  of  the  fourth  day,  they  reached  the 
hills  lying  to  the  west  of  Jerusalem,  and  en- 
camped in  one  of  the  narrow  valleys  for  a  few 
hours  of  rest  and  refreshment. 

"  I  shall  go  into  the  city  alone,"  said  Duma- 
chus, after  he  had  eaten.  "  The  rest  of  you  will 
await  me  here.  Let  there  be  no  disturbance 
among  you,  lest  we  be  foiled  in  our  purpose  ere 
it  be  undertaken." 


52 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


Then  he  drew  Gaius  aside,  and  talked  with 
him  in  a  low  tone  for  a  few  moments.  Titus 
felt  sure  that  the  conversation  referred  to  him, 
but  he  made  no  sign;  he  hoped  in  the  excite- 
ment which  would  shortly  follow,  to  be  able 
to  make  his  escape.  His  brain  was  already 
teeming  with  vague,  impossible  plans  to 
seek  out  his  parents— if  indeed  they  were  to 
be  found  in  Jerusalem— and  make  himself 
known  to  them.  How  he  was  to  do  this  he 
did  not  know;  but  he  was  full  of  unreasoning 
hope. 

After  some  hours  Dumachus  returned.  "  All 
is  well,"  he  announced  shortly,  but  with  an  air 
of  triumph.  Then  after  draining  a  cup  of  wine, 
he  threw  himself  down  in  the  shade  and  slept 
heavily. 

The  men  conversed  in  low  tones,  scraps  of 
their  conversation  at  times  reaching  the  ears  of 
Titus. 

"  There  be  already  above  five  hundred  men 
in  the  plot;  'tis  sure  to  succeed." 

"  Will  the  attempt  be  made  to-night?" 

"  Before  the  moon  rises — when  'tis  dark." 

"  We  shall  force  the  Temple  gates  with  ease. 
'Tis  the  plan  of  Barabbas  to  tear  down  the 
golden  eagle*  from  the  inner  gate.  Herod  hath 
set  it  up;  'tis  an  abomination  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Jews." 

"  What  care  we  for  the  golden  eagle,  or  for 
the  Jews!  "Tis  plunder  we  want!" 

"  Hist!  Once  inside  the  gates,  man,  'twill  go 
hard  with  us  if  we  cannot  secure  some  of  the 
golden  vessels  with  which  the  Temple  is 
crammed.  Then  there  is  the  other." 

Here  they  lowered  their  voices,  so  that  Titus 
lost  what  followed.  Then  one  spoke  a  little 
louder. 

'"Tis  there  still?" 

"  Yes.  Pilate  hath  not  yet  dared  to  put  his 
hands  upon  it;  though  the  aqueduct  must  be 
finished,  and  he  hath  not  the  means  to  do  it." 

"  'Tis  a  goodly  sum?" 

"A  goodly  sum!  'Tis  a  great  treasure,  man! 
'Twill  make  us  all  rich  for  life.  Our  plan  is  to 
get  away  with  it  in  the  confusion  of  the  fight 
and  make  for  the  sea;  once  there,  we  can  escape 
into  Greece.  After  that— a  long  life,  and  a 
merry  one!" 

"  'Tis  a  plan  worthy  of  our  chief;  hath  Jesus 
Barabbas  any  knowledge  of  it?" 

"  Not  he!  He  is  a  devout  Jew,  the  son  of  a 
Rabbi,  and  thinketh  only  to  rid  the  Temple  of 
the  golden  eagle,  which,  in  his  notion,  dese- 
crateth  it.  He  is  a  turbulent  fellow  though,  and 


*The  eagle  was  the  emblem  of  Rome's  authority.  The 
placing  of  this  figure  over  the  Temple  gate  was  resented  by 
the  Jews,  not  only  because  it  was  the  emblem  of  Rome's 
authority  but  because  it  was  a  graven  image  and  its 
presence  a  pollution  to  the  Temple. 


hath  an  unsavory  reputation  with  the  authori- 
ties." 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  he  should  have  no 
share  in  our  plunder.  We  be  reasonably  un- 
known in  these  parts,  and  can  therefore  hope 
to  get  away.  Let  them  take  him  and  crucify 
him;  'twill  be  the  better  for  us." 

"  May  Jove  help  us!"  said  Gestas  devoutly. 
"  I  vow  a  golden  chain  at  every  shrine  in 
Greece,  if  we  be  successful." 

"  I  also!"  shouted  another. 

Dumachus  roused  up  at  the  sound,  and  re- 
buking them  savagely  for  their  folly,  called  for 
wine  and  food. 

As  he  ate  and  drank,  he  now  and  then  cast 
a  fierce  look  in  the  direction  of  Titus.  The  boy 
paled,  and  clenched  his  hands  tightly,  for  he 
guessed  his  thoughts,  or  fancied  that  he  did. 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  the  lad  here?"  asked 
one  of  the  men  presently,  observing  these 
glances. 

"  'Tis  in  my  mind—"  began  Dumachus,  fixing 
his  red  eyes  upon  Titus  with  an  evil  smile. 

But  Gaius,  thoroughly  understanding  his 
chief,  interrupted  him  hastily:  "Taste  this 
wine,  my  Dumachus;  thou  wilt  find  it  good  and 
sound.  Hold  thy  cup,  and  let  me  fill  for  thee — 
what  -thinkest  thou  of  that?" 

Dumachus  drained  the  cup  slowly,  then  held 
it  out  to  be  replenished.  "  'Tis  a  goodly  vin- 
tage; where  got  we  it?" 

"  From  the  Samaritan  wine-merchant,  yester- 
day," answered  Gaius,  filling  the  cup  to  the 
brim.  "  We  shall  need  every  arm  in  our  ven- 
ture to-night,"  he  continued.  "  There  is  none 
bolder  in  a  fight  than  the  lad  Titus  here,  as 
thou  knowest;  dost  remember  how  he  fought 
the  giant  Ethiopian  single-handed  last  year, 
when  we  so  narrowly  escaped  being  taken? 
Aye,  and  downed  him  too!  We  shall  have  need 
of  him.  What  sayest  thou,  lad?  Wilt  thou  fight 
the  Romans  with  us  to-night?" 

"That  will  I!"  said  Titus,  trembling  in  his 
anxiety.  "  Only  give  me  that  with  which  ro 
fight." 

Dumachus  held  out  the  cup  to  Gaius  for  the 
fourth  time.  "  I  have  a  mind  to  leave  him 
here,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and  to  so  leave  him, 
that  he  will  not  again  escape  me,  nor  again  foil 
me  in  my  purposes." 

"  Nay,  my  good  chief,"  said  Gaius,  laying  a 
warning  hand  on  Titus'  shoulder.  "  We  can 
scarce  leave  him  with  safety.  I  will  take  him 
under  my  charge  to-night;  and  let  the  fellow 
dare  try  to  escape  me!"  And  he  glared  at  Titus 
with  assumed  ferocity. 

"  If  we  succeed  in  our  venture,  I  care  not  what 
becomes  of  the  boy!"  said  Dumachus,  who  was 
beginning  to  be  merry  with  the  wine,  with 
which  Gaius  still  continued  to  ply  him.  "  Let 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


him  find  Pi-isca — the  woman  hath  escaped  me. 
She  can  tell  him  of  his  parents.  If  we  win  to- 
night, I  shall  be  avenged  of  my  wrong!  Ha, 
ha!  But  come!  'tis  time  we  were  away;  we 
must  enter  the  city  by  twos  and  threes  to 
avoid  suspicion.  We  will  meet  in  the  wine- 
shop of  Clopas,  in  the  upper  market.  There  we 
shall  find  Barabbas,  and  there  will  the  others 
come  as  soon  as  it  waxeth  dark.  Fill  all  around 
and  let  us  drink.  What  is  left  shall  be  poured 
out  as  a  libation  to  Mars;*  may  he,  and  all  the 
gods,  help  us!" 

"  Let  them  help  us,  I  say!    'Tis  a  pious  act 
to  seize  the  treasure  from  the  God  of  the  He- 


"  We  have  been  betrayed!" 

brews;  our  own  gods  shall  profit  by  it!"  cried 
Gestas. 

Dumachus  now  rose  to  his  feet,  and  with 
drunken  solemnity  poured  out  upon  the  ground 
what  was  left  in  the  wine-skin,  calling  loudly 
upon  all  the  heathen  deities,  for  help  in  their 
unholy  enterprise. 


The  wine-shop  of  Clopas,  in  the  upper  market- 
place, sent  out  a  broad  glow  of  cheery  yellow 
light  into  the  darkness,  as  Titus,  together  with 
Gaius,  and  another  of  the  band  called  Joca, 
paused  near  by  to  make  sure  of  their  bearings. 

r  Yonder  is  the  place,"  said  Joca.  "  'Tis  well 
enough  known  to  me.  Many  is  the  merry  night 
I  have  passed  there  in  my  youth." 


*Mars,  the  god  of  war.  It  was  customary  among  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  to  offer  libations  to  the  heathen  deities 
before  entering  upon  any  important  undertaking. 


"Then  thou  art  Jerusalem-born?"  asked 
Gaius. 

"  Jerusalem-born  and  bred,"  replied  the  other. 
"  My  father  was  a  silversmith  and  wrought 
sacred  vessels  for  the  Temple  use.  'Twas  in 
the  shop  of  Clopas  that.  I  first  met  Dumachus. 
He  was  a  handsome  fellow  in  those  days. 
Something  befell  him — I  know  not  what;  he  fled 
to  Galilee,  carrying  a  woman  and  a  child  with 
him.  The  child  was  the  lad  here.  Once  in  my 
hearing  the  woman  called  him  David.  After- 
ward he  was  known  to  us  as  Titus,  but  I  doubt 
not  that  David  was  his  true  name." 
Titus  was  listening  with  all  his  ears,  but  he 
said  nothing,  for  he 
hoped  that  the  man 
would  speak  further. 
Gaius  had  armed  him 
with  one  of  his  own 
knives.  He  could  have 
slipped  away  in  the 
darkness  easily 
enough,  and  was  half- 
minded  to  do  so. 
Then  he  reflected  that 
he  might  learn  some- 
thing more  of  •  his 
mysterious  birth  and 
parentage,  if  he 
stayed;  besides,  he 
had  a  strong  curiosity 
to  see  the  much- 
talked-of  Bai-abba^; 
and  underneath  all, 
was  an  unconfessed 
desire  to  share  in  the 
exciting  events  which 
were  soon  to  follow. 

"  If  I   go  now,"   he 
argued    further    with 

himself,  "  I  shall  have  to  find  my  way  back  to 
Capernaum  alone,  and  confess  to  Benoni  that 
he  was  right  and  I  was  wrong.  Moreover,  the 
mule  and  the  money  are  both  gone,  and  how 
could  I  replace  them?  I  will,  at  all  events,  wait 
for  a  few  hours;  something  may  happen  to  my 
advantage." 

By  this  time,  they  had  entered  the  wine-shop, 
and  the  opportunity  for  escape  had,  for  the  mo- 
ment, passed. 

"  Yonder  is  Barabbas!  He  is  even  now  speak- 
ing with  Dumachus,"  whispered  Gaius. 

Titus  looked,  and  saw  a  man  of  giant  stature, 
whose  bold  features  and  quick,  brilliant  eyes 
were  in  marked  contrast  to  the  bloated,  brutal 
face  of  Dumachus.  Titus  felt  instantly  drawn 
to  the  man;  and  edging  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  managed  to  get  near  enough  to  hear 
what  was  being  said. 
"  He  will  not  dare  to  restore  it,  once  it  is 


54 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


torn  from  its  place,"  Barabbas  was  saying  in  a 
low-toned  but  powerful  bass  voice.  "  The  symbol 
of  Roman  supremacy  hath  long  enough  insulted 
the  house  of  our  God.  It  shall  be  torn  down, 
and  broken  into  pieces  so  small  that  no  one 
shall  be  able  to  put  it  together  again.  I  myself 
will  cast  the  fragments  into  the  courtyard  of 
the  palace.  I  tell  thee  that  Pilate  is,  at  heart,  a 
coward.  He  feareth  us.  Did  he  not  yield  to  us  at 
Csesarea  ?*  Did  he  not  yield  to  us  when  lately  he 
would  have  seized  the  sacred  treasure  of  the 
Temple  for  his  own  purposes?" 

"Thou  speakest  truly!"  shouted  half  a  hun- 
dred voices.  "  Let  us  go  forth,  and  tear  the 
accursed  image**  from  its  place!" 

With  a  common  impulse  all  rushed  into  the 
street.  Titus,  who  had  managed  to  keep  near 
Barabbas,  saw  to  his  astonishment  that  the 
square  was  crowded  with  men,  their  fierce,  de- 
termined looking  faces  revealed  by  the  light  of 
flaming  torches  brandished  here  and  there  over 
the  heads  of  the  throng. 

A  low,  hoarse  murmur  ran  through  the  as- 
semblage, as  they  recognized  their  leader.  Ba- 
rabbas paused,  and  with  a  few  short,  decisive 
words,  explained  the  plan  and  method  of  at- 
tack; then  commanding  that  the  torches  should 
be  extinguished,  all  set  forward  at  a  rapid  pace 
toward  the  Temple,  under  cover  of  the  darkness. 

They  had  advanced  no  great  distance,  when 
the  clang  of  shields  reached  them,  and  a  load 
voice  was  heard  demanding  the  password. 

"  Death  and  confusion!"  muttered  Gaius,  who, 
with  Titus,  was  pressing  forward  immediately 
behind  Barabbas.  "  'Tis  the  Roman  guard!" 

"  Forward^  men!  Seize  the  Romans;  there 
are  but  a  handful  of  them!"  shouted  Barabbas. 

With  a  great  cry  the  mob  rushed  on;  and  in 
a  moment  the  noise  of  a  fierce  conflict  was 
heard— the  clashing  of  swords,  the  clangor  of 
shields,  savage  yells,  together  with  the  shrieks 
of  the  wounded,  who  were  trampled  ruthlessly 
under  foot.  Barabbas  had  pushed  forward  into 
the  thick  of  the  combat,  where  he  fought 
like  a  madman;  but  before  many  moments,  it 
was  apparent  that  the  mob  was  giving  way. 

"We  have  been  betrayed!"  said  Duniachus 
in  the  ear  of  Gaius.  "  Let  us  get  away  speedily; 
we  can  do  nothing  to-night.  The  Romans  are 
thicker  than  bees."  And  without  waiting  for 
an  answer,  he  darted  away  through  the  crowd. 

Almost  instantly  followed  a  great  cry  from 
the  front:  "  The  Romans  from  the  citadel  are 


*Pilate  once  brought  the  standards  of  the  Roman  army 
into  Jerusalem— silver  eagles  on  the  top  of  poles— and  re- 
fused to  take  them  away;  but  the  Jews  surrounded  his 
house  in  Caesarea  by  thousands  and  for  six  days  and  six 
nights  they  yelled  incessantly,  till  he  was  forced  to  yield 
and  remove  the  hated  standards  from  the  Holy  City. 

**  "  Thou  shalt  not  make  unto  thee  any  graven  image,  or 
any  likeness  of  any  thing.  .  ." — Ex.  &>:  4. 


upon  us!  Barabbas  is  taken!  Run  for  your 
lives!" 

The  mob  was  now  in  the  wildest  confusion, 
each  thinking  only  of  his  own  safety.  Titus  was 
hurried  along  with  the  rest,  and  hardly  knowing 
what  he  did,  he  darted  down  a  narrow  street  in 
the  darkness.  Presently  finding  himself  uupur- 
sued,  he  paused  for  an  instant  to  recover  his 
breath,  and  listening  intently,  heard  the  frantic 
yells  of  the  mob,  and  the  sound  of  the  pursuing 
soldiery  growing  momently  more  distant. 

His  heart  beat  high  with  hope.  "  I  am  safe 
now!"  he  thought.  "  I  have  only  to  keep  out  of 
sight  till  morning;  then  I  can  easily  find  my 
way  out  of  the  city.  I  will  go  back  and  confess 
the  whole  thing  to  Benoni;  he  shall  believe  me." 

The  thought  of  the  quiet  Capernaum  home 
was  very  sweet  to  him,  as  he  stood  there  alone 
and  unfriended  in  the  thick  darkness.  But  why 
was  his  tunic  so  warm  and  wet?  And  now  he 
became  conscious  of  a  stinging  pain  in  his  head. 
"  I  am  wounded,"  he  thought;  and  feeling  cau- 
tiously in  his  thick  curls,  he  discovered  a  deep 
gash  which  seemed  to  be  bleeding  freely. 

"  Strange!"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  I  do  not 
remember  that  I  was  wounded  in  yonder  fight!" 

Presently  he  began  to  feel  faint  and  light- 
headed. "  I  must  have  help,"  he  thought,  "  or 
I  shall  perish  in  the  street." 

Moving  cautiously,  and  as  quickly  as  possible, 
he  advanced  down  the  street,  feeling  his  way 
along  by  the  wall.  The  moon  was  rising  now. 
and  by  her  dim,  uncertain  light  he  saw  that  he 
was  about  to  emerge  into  an  open  square;  on 
the  further  side  of  this  place  there  was  a  light. 
as  of  a  fire  burning,  and  dark  figures  moving 
near  it. 

Titus  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  staggered  for- 
ward, forgetting  his  danger,  and  thinking  only 
that  help  was  at  hand.  The  next  moment  he 
fell  half  fainting  to  the  ground,  crying  out  feebly 
for  help. 

"  What  was  that  sound?"  said  one  of  a  number 
of  Roman  soldiers,  who  were  gathered  around 
the  fire. 

"  I  heard  nothing,"  answered  another.  "  What 
was  it  like?" 

"  'Twas  a  cry,  and  sounded  near;  but  I  know 
not  what  it  was?" 

"  'Twas  the  insurgents,"  said  the  centurion. 
"  They  are  still  pursuing  them  in  the  lower  town. 
They  have  taken  many  prisoners;  the  ring- 
leader Barabbas  among  others.  We  shall  have 
a  pretty  show  for  Passover  week." 

"  What  meanest  thou?" 

"  Why,  of  crosses,  to  be  sure;  'tis  the  way 
Pilate  taketh  to  keep  down  this  turbulent  people. 
"Us  a  wholesome  sight  for  the  crowds  that  come 
to  the  city  at  Feast  times,  and  doth  more  to 
keep  order  than  an  extra  legion." 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CHOSS. 


55 


"  Hist!  I  hoard  the  sound  again!"  said  the 
other;  and  plunging  a  torch  into  the  fire,  he  be- 
gan a  hasty  search  in  the  neighborhood.  "  Here, 
comrade!"  he  shouted.  "  'Tis  a  wounded  man; 
lend  me  a  hand  with  him!" 

Between  them  they  brought  the  lad  to  the  fire, 
and  began  to  examine  him  roughly  by  its  light. 

"  What  dost  thou  make  of  him?"  asked  one. 

"  He  is  a  Jew,  by  his  features— one  of  the  in- 
surgents. We  must  not  let  him  escape  us,"  re- 
plied the  centurion.  "  Tear  a  strip  from  his 
tunic,  and  bind  up  his  head;  he  hath  a  nasty 
cut.  And  hand  me  yonder  wine;  I  will  give  him 
a  sup." 

"  Verily,  Marcus,  thou  art  as  handy  as  a 
woman,"  declared  one  of  the  others  who  stood 
by  looking  on. 

"  I  am  saving  him  for  Passover  week,"  said 
he  who  W'<:.s  called  Marcus,  with  a  brutal  laugh. 
"  To  die  with  a  cut  in  his  head,  were  too  good 
for  such  an  one!" 

Titus  had  revived  under  the  combined  influ- 
ences of  the  warmth,  the  wine,  and  the  stanch- 
ing of  the  cut. 

"  Canst  thou  stand?"  asked  the  centurion,  see- 
ing that  he  had  opened  his  eyes. 

Titus  replied  by  standing  up,  albeit  somewhat 
unsteadily. 

"  Wert  thou  in  yonder  fight?" 

"  I  was,"  said  Titus  in  a  low  voice.    "  But—" 

"  Take  him  to  the  prison,  Caius  and  Brutus!" 
was  the  prompt  order.  And  before  Titus  could 
protest,  he  was  marched  away  between  the  two 
soldiers,  and  shortly  found  himself  thrust  into 
a  cold,  damp  dungeon.  Here  he  sank  on  to  a  pile 
of  mouldy  straw;  and  despite  his  fears,  and  the 
pain  in  his  head,  soon  fell  into  a  heavy  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

ITUS  had 
passed  more 
than  a  week 
in  his  dun- 
geon, when 
one  morning 
he  was  roused 
from  an  un- 
easy slumber 
by  the  entrance  of  a 
guard  of  Roman  sol- 
diers. These  com- 
manded him  to  coma 
forth,  then  marched 
him  rapidly  and  si- 
lently through  the 
streets  till  they 
reached  the  palace  of  the  Governor.  Passing 
through  the  great  entrance,  which  was  heavily  *Adar  corresponds  to  our  month  of  March, 


Antonia. 


guarded,  they  found  themselves  in  the  Prae- 
torium,  or  Judgment  Hall. 

Titus  glanced  hastily  around,  then  his  head 
sank  upon  his  breast.  In  that  brief  survey,  he 
had  seen  that  the  great  hall  was  thronged  with 
people,  and  that  seated  high  aloft  in  imposing 
state  was  a  man  whom  he  at  once  divined  to  be 
Pontius  Pilate,  the  Roman  Governor. 

For  a  moment  he  almost  forgot  his  surround- 
ings in  the  maze  of  confused  and  fearful 
thoughts  which  thronged  his  brain.  Again 
roused  by  the  suppressed  but  fierce  murmur  of 
excitement  about  him,  he  looked  up  and  saw  the 
imposing  figure  of  Barabbas.  Heavily  manacled, 
and  guarded  by  four  soldiers,  he  stood  forth  iu 
the  sight  of  all  in  a  slightly  elevated  space  im- 
mediately before  the  judgment  seat. 

"  Thou  art  accused  of  having  incited  an  insur- 
rection against  the  government,  on  the  evening 
of  Adar*  the  twenty-seventh,  and  of  having 
committed  murder,  in  that  thou  didst  with  thine 
own  hands  feloniously  slay  certain  soldiers  of 
the  Roman  guard,  who  were  in  lawful  fulfill- 
ment of  their  duty.  Hast  thou  aught  to  say  for 
thyself?" 

"Who  are  mine  accusers?  Let  them  stand 
forth,"  said  Barabbas  boldly,  looking  at  the 
Governor  with  unflinching  eyes. 

"  Produce  the  witnesses,"  said  Pilate  shortly. 

Several  men  now  advanced  to  the  front, 
among  whom,  Titus  was  amazed  to  recognize 
Gestas.  The  testimony  practically  agreed,  that 
the  prisoner  was.  on  the  night  mentioned,  en- 
gaged in  feloniously  plotting  against  the  govern- 
ment; and  that  he  was  personally  responsible 
for  the  death  of  an  unknown  number  of  the 
Roman  soldiers,  who  were  slain  in  the  conflict. 

"  What  sayest  thou  to  the  testimony  of  these 
witnesses?"  asked  Pilate.  "  Is  there  any  reason, 
why  I  should  not  presently  inflict  upon  thee  thy 
just  penalty  of  thy  misdeeds?" 

"  What  were  these,  mine  accusers,  doing  on 
the  night  of  Adar  the  twenty-seventh?"  de- 
manded Barabbas,  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"  That  concerns  thee  not,"  replied  Pilate 
sternly.  "  Speak  for  thyself  now,  if  thou  wilt, 
or  hold  thy  peace  while  I  pronounce  sentence 
upon  thee." 

"  I  will  say  this,"  said  Barabbas,  knowing  that 
his  case  was  hopeless;  "that  I  only  regret  that 
we  accomplished  not  our  purpose,  which  was  to 
rend  the  golden  eagle  from  the  Temple  of  Je- 
hovah. And  furthermore,  if  the  Romans  which 
desecrate  the  holy  city  of  Jerusalem  were  pos- 
sessed of  one  single  neck,  I  would  gladly  hew  it 
asunder  with  my  sword,  that  the  land  might  be 
rid  of  an  abomination  which  riseth  to  heaven." 

This  incendiary  speech  was  received  with  a 


56 


572175;  A  COMitADfi  OP  THE  CROSS. 


storm  of  hisses  from  the  Romans,  and  an  irre- 
pressible murmur  of  appfause  from  the  Jews 
who  were  present.  The  face  of  Pilate  paled, 
and  his  voice  trembled  with  rage  as  he  said: 

"  Out  of  thine  own  mouth  thou  art  condemned; 
it  only  remaineth  for  me  to  pass  sentence  upon 
thee.  Thou  shalt  be  nailed  to  the  cross  on  Fri- 
day, the  fifteenth  day  of  Nisan*  next,  and  re- 
main thereon  till  life  be  extinct.  Thou  shalt 
also  be  scourged  upon  being  removed  from  my 
presence,  and  again  before  the  execution  taketh 
place."  Then  turning  to  the  guard,  he  com- 
manded them  to  remove  the  prisoner. 

Titus  was  sick  and  faint  at  these  fearful 
words;  but  Barabbas,  apparently  unmoved, 
passed  from  the  presence  of  the  Governor  with 
as  lofty  and  undaunted  a  front  as  he  had  worn 
on  the  night  of  the  riot. 

Then  followed  the  examination  of  a  number 
of  witnesses  against  forty  or  fifty  of  the  in- 
surgents. These  had  been  seized  by  the  sol- 
diers as  they  fled  after  the  capture  of  Barabbas. 
Pilate  disposed  of  their  case  very  quickly,  sen- 
tencing them  one  and  all  to  a  heavy  scourging, 
and  a  night  in  the  stocks.** 

After  these  had  been  removed,  for  the  inflic- 
tion of  their  sentence,  Pilate  consulted  for  a  few 
moments  with  the  officials  who  surrounded  him, 
then  said  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Let  the  other  prison- 
ers be  brought  forward." 

Titus  was  now  roughly  pushed  to  the  space  in 
front  of  the  judgment  seat,  and  lifting  his  eyes, 
he  saw  standing  beside  him  the  familiar  figure 
of  Dumachus.  The  two  stared  at  each  other  in 
mutual  surprise;  then  Dumachus  smiled,  and  the 
smile  was  an  evil  thing  to  see. 

"  Prisoners,"  said  Pilate,  "  ye  are  accused  of 
three  crimes — highway  robbery,  murder  and 
rioting.  Let  the  witnesses  against  you  testify; 
,then  shall  ye  speak  for  yourselves." 

The  first  witness  was  the  identical  Samaritan 
wine-merchant  whose  vintage  Dumachus  had 
so  highly  praised.  He  deposed,  that  in  his  jour- 
ney from  Samaria  to  Jerusalem,  he  had  been  set 
upon  by  thieves,  who  had  stripped  him  of  .his 
possessions,  consisting  of  certain  skins  of  choice 
wine  which  he  was  conveying  to  the  Jerusalem 
market;  and  even  of  his  clothing.  That  after 
boating  him,  and  subjecting  him  to  various  in- 
dignities, they  had  left  him  lying  half  dead  by 
the  roadside.  He  had  subsequently  been  res- 
cued and  cared  for  by  one  of  his  own  country 
men,  who  happened  to  be  journeying  that  way. 
He  recognized  the  prisoners  at  the  bar  as  mem- 
bers of  the  band  which  had  thus  feloniously 
assaulted  him. 


*Nisan  corresponds  to  our  month  or  April. 

**Wooden  blocks  or  frames  with  holes  in  which  the  feet 
and  sometimes  the  hands  and  neck  of  prisoners  were  con- 
fined. 


The  next  witness  swore  to  having  seen  the 
prisoners  at  the  wine-shop  of  Clopas  on  the  night 
of  the  riot,  and  afterward  in  the  company  of 
Barabbas  at  the  time  of  the  encounter  with  the 
Roman  guard. 

Then  the  centurion  who  had  captured  Titus 
recounted  the  circumstances  of  his  arrest,  and 
also  stated  that  the  prisoner  had  confessed  that 
he  had  taken  part  in  the  riot. 

The  last  witness  to  be  brought  forward,  was 
Gestas.  He  carefully  avoided  the  eye  of  Dii- 
machus,  as  he  stood  forth;  and  stared  stolidly 
at  the  Governor  in  his  ivory  chair  of  state. 

"  What  sayest  thou  concerning  the  prisoners?" 
asked  Pilate. 

Gestas  looked  down  upon  the  ground,  then 
rolled  his  eyes  uneasily  at  the  guard  which  stood 
near  the  prisoners;  he  seemed  to  feel  the  mur- 
derous look  with  which  Dumachus  was  eying 
him.  At  length  he  began  to  speak  in  a  low, 
hoarse  voice. 

"  I  was  promised  that  if  I  told  all,  I  myself 
should  escape.  Is  it  so,  Excellency?" 

"  Thou  shalt  escape,  even  as  was  told  thee. 
Speak  on!"  said  Pilate  impatiently. 

Well,  then,"  continued  the  man,  "Dumachus, 
yonder,  was  chief  of  our  band.  There  were 
twenty  of  us  in  all.  but  about  a  dozen  did  most 
of  the  business.  We  had  our  headquarters  in 
Capernaum;  but  put  in  most  of  our  work  on  the 
great  highways  leading  to  Jerusalem,  where 
there  is  always  plenty  of  plunder  for  the  taking. 
We  took  much  booty,  and  disposed  of  our  prison- 
ers as  seemed  best  at  the  time.  Many  we 
allowed  to  go  free;  but  if  any  made  outcry  or 
disturbance,  our  chief  commanded  them  to  bs 
put  to  death  as  quickly  and  quietly  as  possible." 

"  How  many  did  ye  so  dispose  of?"  questioned 
Pilate. 

The  man  scratched  his  head  reflectively,  then 
replied,  "  I  do  not  rightly  know,  Excellency. 
We  never  counted  them." 

"  Was  this  young  man  a  member  of  the  band?" 
asked  Pilate,  indicating  Titus,  with  a  motion  of 
his  hand. 

"  He  was,  until  lately,  Excellency.  He  Is 
called  Titus,  and  was  known  as  the  son  of  our 
chief;  but  'twas  thought  by  all  of  us  that  he 
was  stolen  in  his  infancy,  and  was  therefore  of 
no  kin  to  Dumachus." 

"  As  a  member  of  the  band,  took  he  part  in 
the  robbery  and  murder  of  which  thou  hast 
spoken?" 

The  man  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  said: 

"  He  was  a  good-hearted  lad,  and  would  have 
been  an  honest  one,  had  he  been  suffered  to  be 
so;  but  he  had  a  bold  spirit,  and  a  ready  hand 
in  a  fight." 

"  By  that  thou  meanest  that  he  did  take  part 
in  the  business,  as  thou  callest  it?" 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


57 


"  'Tis  true  that  he  killed  an  Ethiopian,"  was 
the  reply,  "  but  'twas  in  a  fair  fight;  the  fellow 
had  killed  him  else." 

"  Ye  hear  what  these  witness  against  you," 
said  Pilate,  now  addressing  the  prisoners. 
"  Thou,  the  chief,  mayst  speak  first." 

Dumachus  lifted  his  shaggy  head,  and  began 
to  speak  rapidly,  and  in  a  whining  voice.  "  The 
man  hath  lied,  Excellency;  'tis  all  a  foul  lie.  I 
am  a  fisherman  by  trade,  and  an  honest  man. 


"  Thou  shalt  suffer  with  the  others;  the  world  will  be  well  rid  of  thee." 


This  young  man  here,  is  my  son.  He  is  a  way- 
ward lad,  and  hath  caused  me  great  sorrow. 
He  hath  undoubtedly  done  much  evil;  I  came 
up  to  Jerusalem  to  endeavor  to  wean  him  from 
his  bad  companions.  'Twas  my  errand  in  the 
wine-shop  of  Clopas.  It  paineth  my  father's 
heart  thus  to  testify  against  mine  only  son, 
but—" 

"  Thou  hast  said  enough,"  said  Pilate,  inter- 
rupting him.  "  Thou  art  undoubtedly  a  valuable 
citizen,  and  a  sorrowing  father— 'tis  written  all 
over  thee.  But  we  must  even  spare  thee  to  en- 
tertain our  Passover  visitors.  On  Friday,  Nisan 
the  fifteenth,  thou  shalt  suffer  with  Barabbas, 
and  in  like  manner.  Guard,  remove  the  pris- 


oner!"—as  Dumachus  began  to  bellow  like  an 

animal. 
"  And  thou,  wayward  son  of  a  righteous  father, 

hast  thou  aught  to  say  for  thyself?" 
Titus  looked  up  into  the  sneering  face  of  the 

man  on  the  judgment  seat,  then  around  on  the 

hostile  faces  which  hemmed  him  in,  his  injured 

head  throbbing  painfully. 

"  Oh,  Stephen!"  he  cried  aloud,  "  Oh,  mother!" 
Pilate  was  thoroughly  tired  of  the  whole 
affair.  Besides,  it  was 
nearly  time  for  the 
noonday  repast,  and 
he  expected  guests;  it 
was  therefore  the 
more  necessary  for 
him  to  have  time  ,x> 
compose  his  spirits, 
after  the  painful 
scenes  of  the  morning. 
With  a  gesture  of  dis- 
gust, he  arose  to  his 
feet  and  said  sharply: 
"  Enough!  This  is 
no  place  for  a  scene! 
Thou  shalt  suffer  with 
the  others;  the  world 
will  be  well  rid  of 
thee.  Guards,  remove 
him!  And  clear  the 
hall." 


Titus  lay  on  the 
mouldy  straw  of  his 
dungeon  once  more. 
He  was  quiet  now;  he 
was  thinking,  not  of 
the  scenes  of  the  morn- 
ing, nor  of  the  fright- 
ful doom  which  hung 
over  him,  but  of  the 
old,  sweet  days  with 
Stephen  on  the  lake;  of 
Prisca,  the  only 
known;  of  the  rosy, 
little  Ruth;  of  the 


mother  he  had  ever 
laughing  face  of  the 
good  old  Benoni.  And  as  he  thought  of  all  these, 
another  face  arose  before  him;  'twas  that  of  the 
Nazarene,  Jesus — beautiful,  mysterious,  tender, 
with  a  love  beyond  all  earthly  love — and  he  fan- 
cied he  again  heard  those  words  which,  light- 
hearted  and  happy,  he  had  heeded  so  little: 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Over  and  over, 
he  repeated  the  words  aloud,  and  their  sound 
seemed-  to  soothe  his  tortured  brain.  His  eyes 
closed,  after  a  time,  and  with  the  healing  words 
still  on  his  lips,  he  slept  profoundly. 
And  as  he  slept  he  dreamed.  He  thought  that 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


he  was  with  Stephen,  and  that  they  two  were 
walking  alone  in  a  great  and  wide  meadow. 
'Twas  a  pleasant  spot,  for  flowers  of  every  form 
and  color  bloomed  profusely  about  them,  while 
the  air  was  filled  with  the  heavenly  melody  of 
the  lark,  high  above  their  heads. 

Stephen  was  talking,  as  was  his  wont,  in  his 
sweet  silvery  voice:  "  Dost  thou  remember  how 
the  Master  said,  '  Consider  the  lilies,  how  they 
grow;  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin;  and 
yet  I  say  unto  you  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his 
glory,  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these'?  And 
our  Father  in  the  heavens  loveth  us  better  than 
He  loveth  the  lilies,  for  we  are  His  children;  the 
Master  hath  said  it,  not  once,  but  many  times." 

"  Thou  art  His  child,"  Titus  answered,  with 
a  passionate  longing  at  his  heart.  "  But  I— I 
know  not  whose  child  I  am." 

Then  he  lifted  his  eyes,  and  saw  coming 
toward  them  the  figure  of  a  Man  clad  in  raiment 
of  a  dazzling  whiteness. 

"Who  }s  it?"  he  said  to  Stephen;  yet  in  his 
heart  he  knew. 

f?  "Tig  the  Master!"  cried  Stephen  joyfully,  and 
he  hastened  to  meet  Him. 

But  Titus  stood  still  where  he  was,  longing, 
yet  afraid;  for  he  knew  that  he  had  sinned.  As 
he  Ipoked,  tye  saw  Stephen  fall  down  at  the  Mas- 
ter's feet  in  an  ecstasy  pf  joy.  Then  Jesus  put 
forth,  His  hand,  and  raised  him  up,  and  th,e  two, 
Balking  Jpvipgly  together,  came  -towards  £im 
amid  the  lilies,  Then  he  thought  that  he  hung 
his  bead,  not  daring  to  look  again,  for  bis  sin 
was  heavy  upon  him. 

M  My  child!" 

He  raised  his  eyes  slowly  at  the  sound  of  that 
voice,  and  as  he  looked,  lo!  the  bitterness  and 
guilt  of  his  heart  melted  away,  and  his  soul  ex- 
panded with  a  mighty  love.  Then  the  Master, 
leaning  forward,  touched  him  on  the  brow,  and 
said: 

"  Thou  too,  art  mine!" 

And  he  awoke,  and  it  was  a  dream!  But 
his  eyes  shone  in  the  darkness  of  his  dungeon, 
and  his  lips  smiled. 

"  Behold,  mine  eyes  have  seen  the  King  In 
His  beauty," 'he  murmured.  "  And  I  am  His." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


was  more  than  a 
month,  now,  since 
Stephen  and  his 
mother  had  climbed 
the  rocky  road  leading 
to  Nazareth;  and  still 
they  abode  in  the 
house  of  Mary,  the 
mother  of  Jesus. 
Prisca  had  never  riseu 
from  the  bed  on  to 
which  she  had  sunken 
so  thankfully  the  night 
of  her  arrival,  and  it  became  more  and  more 
evident  to  the  experienced  eyes  of  Mary  that 
her  days  were  numbered.  Once,  as  she  bent 
over  the  invalid  to  perform  some  trifling  ser- 
vice, she  said  gently: 

"  I  would  that  we  could  send  word  to  my  Son; 
He  could  heal  thee." 

But  the  sick  woman  caught  her  hand.  "  No, 
no!"  she  cried  earnestly,  "  I  am  going  to  die, 
and  I  am  glad  of  it.  My  life  has  not  been  so 
happy  that  I  would  fain  live  longer.  Let  roe  di0 
here,  where  it  is  sp  quiet  and  peaceful," 

And  in  truth,  it  was  a  peaceful  haven  that  sho 
had  reached,  after  the  troublous  voyage  of  ftei1 
life,  As.  she  lay  in  the  humble  bed  fpagpant 
with  spotless  linen,  suffering  no  pain,  but  grow? 
Ing  daily  weaker,  she  was  almost  happy  for  tbo 
first  time  in  years, 

Often  after  the  duties  of  the  little  home  had 
been  performed,  Mary  would  bring  her  spinning 
into  the  chamber  where  the  sick  woman  lay,  and 
sitting  by  her  bedside,  work  silently  while  sho 
slept.  Sometimes  they  talked  together.  Once 
she  told  Prisca  the  wondrous  story  of  Bethler 
hem,  of  the  stars,  the  song  of  the  angels,  and 
the  visit  of  the  wise  men.  Another  time,  when 
Stephen  was  sitting  by  his  mother,  she  told  them 
of  the  angelic  warning,  and  the  hurried  journey 
into  Egypt;  of  the  strange  people  and 
customs  of  that  far-away  land;  and  of  the  re- 
turn—not to  their  old  home  and  friends  in 
Judea,  but  to  this  little  mountain  village  of  Naz- 
areth. 

Stephen  never  tired  of  listening  as  she  talked 
of  the  childhood  of  Jesus,  of  His  boyhood,  and 
the  years  of  His  young  manhood. 

"  This  bench  under  the  shade  of  the  fig  tree 
is  where  He  studied  when  He  was  a  child,"  she 
said  one  day,  "  and  here  I  used  to  bring  my 
spinning  in  the  long  afternoons.  He  always 
loved  to  be  with  me;  while  the  other  children 
of  the  village  liked  best  to  play  in  the  fountain, 
OF  fount  hjrd'g  pegts,  or  play  rjpislly  in  UJQ 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


59 


streets.  Yet  was  He  the  happiest  child  in  the 
world,  always  singing  about  His  work,  and  with 
a  smile  like  sunshine.  The  others  all  loved  Him 
dearly.  Xo  one  could  tell  such  beautiful  stories 
as  He;  and  there  was  no  other  so  ready  to 
soothe  a  sick  baby,  or  comfort  a  crying  child,  or 
bind  up  a  cut  finger,  in  the  whole  village.  So 
that  while  He  loved  best  to  be  near  me,  as  I 
have  said,  and  spent  much  of  His  time  in  help- 
ing me  about  the  house  and  garden,  the  neigh- 
bors' children  flocked  about  Him  as  thick  as  bees 
about  a  rose.  I  remember  me  how  He  used  to  sit 
on  yonder  bench,  with  one  or  two  babies  in  His 
arms,  and  a  dozen  other  little  ones  crowded 
about  Him,  some  sitting  at  His  feet,  leaning 
against  His  knee,  and  all  listening  with  eyes 
and  ears  wide  open,  as  He  talked  to  them  of  the 
birds— how  they  built  their  homes  so  patiently 
and  lovingly,  and  worked  hard  to  bring  up  their 
young  ones  all  through  the  long  bright  days; 
about  the  flowers  that  grew  so  fair  and  sweet 
in  the  lonely  valleys,  where  no  one  but  God 
could  see  them;  about  the  snow  that  fell  white 
and  silent  from  the  clouds  }n  the  winter  time, 
yet  every  tiny  flake  a  thing  of  beauty.  Some- 
times on  the  Sabbath  days  He  would  repeat 
Psalms  to  them,  and  tell  them  long  stpries  from 
the  Scriptures— of  Moses  in  his  little  ark  and  the 
beautiful  Princess;  of  Goliath  and  the  bold 
young  David;  of  Samson,  the  fpoljsb  strong  man, 
and  many  others." 

"  Ab!"  said  Stephen,  witty  shining  eyes,  and  ij, 
patbetlo  look  of  wlstfulness,  f  how  J  wisfc  I 
might  haye  lived  in  Nazareth  then!" 

Mary  smiled  her  beautiful  gentle  smile,  and 
her  delicate  hand  caressingly  on  his  thick 
purls.  "Dost  thou  know,"  she  said,  after  a 
little  pause,  "  thou  art  like  Him  in  some  of  thy 
ways.  When  thou  art  working  so  busily  In  the 
garden,  singing  softly  to  thyself,  or  sitting  as 
thou  art  now  at  my  feet,  I  always  think  of  Him 
as  He  was  at  thy  age.  That  Is  why  I  talk  of 
Him  to  tbee  so  often." 

"  I  would  rather  be  like  Him,"  cried  Stephen 
passionately,  "than  to  be  the  Ceegar  on  his 
throne!" 

"  In  that  art  thou  wise,"  said  Mary,  and  her 
deep  eyes  beamed  with  a  mysterious  light.  "  The 
Cresar  on  his  throne  is  at  best  but  a  sinful  man, 
while  Jesus  is—" 

"  He  is  the  Holy  One  of  God!"  said  Stephen 
reverently. 

Then  a  silence  fell  between  them  for  a  time. 
But  always  after  that,  the  mother  of  Jesus  no- 
ticed how  he  tried,  humbly  and  unobtrusively, 
but  ever  faithfully,  to  fill  that  vacant  place. 
And  in  her  heart  she  loved  him  for  it 
'  As  for  Prisca,  she  felt  for  her  a  tender  pity, 
for  she  divined  that  the  woman  bad  somewhere 
g,  dark  page  ID  Ijer  history.  Ooe  day  P.?  «v 


silently  by  the  bedside  of  the  invalid,  busied 
with  her  spinning,  glancing  now  and  then  at  the 
white  worn  face  on  the  pillow,  she  saw  that 
great  tears  were  stealing  slowly  from  beneath 
the  closed  lids.  Rising,  she  leaned  over  the  bed, 
and  taking  the  thin,  chill  hand  of  the  sufferer 
in  both  of  hers,  said  gently:  "  Wilt  thou  not 
tell  me  thy  trouble?" 

Instantly  the  dark  eyes  opened  and  looked 
long  and  earnestly  into  the  loving  face  above 
her.  "  Yes!"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  will  tell  thee 
all.  I  did  a  great  wrong  years  ago,  and  it  hath 
weighed  me  to  the  earth  all  my  life  since.  Yet 
have  I  never  had  the  courage  to  make  it  right." 

Then  she  told  the  story  of  Titus,  and  how  she 
had  stolen  away  by  night  to  meet  her  lover,  tak- 
ing the  child  with  her. 

"Why  didst  thou  take  the  child?"  questioned 
Mary. 

"  Dumachus  bade  me  to,"  answered  the  woman 
feebly,  "  And  I  loved  the  little  one,  and  could 
not  bear  to  part  with  him;  so  I  obeyed.  I  always 
meant  to  restore  him  to  his  toother,  but  I  never 
dared.  Once  when  I  said  that  I  must  do  it,  my 
husband  in  a  fury  struck  me  down;  and  worse 
than  that,  he  hurt  my  baby  Stephen,  crippling 
him  hopelessly.  He  was  always  helpless  an4 
suffering  after  that,  till,  as  thou  knpwest,  he 
was  healed  by  the  goodness  of  tby  Son.  Ah. 
what  do  we  not  owe  to  thee!  And  now  thou  wilj; 
hate  me!  J  am  not  fit  to  be  under  this  roof." 

Mary  was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  she  kissed 
the  sufferer  tenderly  on  the  brow;  then  8he  said 
firmly,  M  Thou  must  even  yet  make  this  wron>j 
right  Let  thy  son  Stephen  go  to  Capernaum 
and  bring  the  young  man  David  hither.  Thou; 
shalt  tell  him  all,  and  give  into  his  hand  tho 
proofs  that  the  story  Is  true.  Hast  thou  them 
here?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Prisca,  reaching  under  her  pillow 
and  drawing  out  a  little  packet,  securely 
wrapped  in  linen,  and  bound  with  a  silken 
thread.  "  I  have  never  let  It  go  from  me;  'tis 
the  little  tunic  which  he  wore  when  I  fled  with 
him.  His  mother  wrought  It  with  her  own 
hands;  she  will  know  It.  And  with  It  Is  a  chain 
of  wrought  silver,  which  she  gave  me  to  wear, 
when  she  selected  me  from  all  her  maidens  to 
care  for  the  little  David.  And  how  have  I  be- 
trayed my  trust!  What  will  become  of  me!" 

"  Thou  hast  indeed  sinned  grievously,"  said 
Mary.  "  But  God  will  forgive  thee,  even  as  He 
forgave  King  David,  who  was  guilty  of  murder, 
if  thou  wilt  but  humble  thine  heart  before  Him." 

"  God  knowetli  that  my  heart  is  humbled,  even 
unto  the  dust;  but,  alas!  it  bringeth  me  no 
peace!" 

Mary  looked  troubled.  She  raised  her  dove- 
like  eyes.  "Ah,  Son  of  God!"  she  murmured, 
'*rijfjf,  «  W9$g  tftat  thovj  w^  fcere  ft) 


60 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


minister  to  this  sin-sick  soul!  As  for  me,  I  know 
not  what  to  say  unto  her."  Then  she  spoke 
again  to  the  sick  woman.  "  Dost  thou  know  my 
Son,  who  is  called  Jesus?" 

"  I  have  seen  Him,"  answered  Prisca.  "  And 
I  always  longed  to  speak  with  Him,  that  I  might 
thank  Him  for  the  healing  of  my  Stephen.  But 
I  dared  not;  the  sin  in  my  heart  was  too  great. 
I  had  almost  put  it  under  my  feet,  till  I  saw 
Him  in  Capernaum." 

"  He  is  the  Sinless  One,"  said  Mary  gravely. 
"  But  didst  thou  never  hear  Him  say  that  He 
had  come  to  this  world  out  of  heaven  above,  to 
save  them  that  had  sinned?" 


"Thou  wilt  find  Titus— give  Mm  this.'1 

"  Said  He  that?"  cried  Prisca  eagerly.  "And 
how  save  them?" 

"  He  hath  said,  not  once  but  many  times,  that 
'  whosoever  believeth  in  Him,  should  not  perish, 
but  have  everlasting  life,'  "  said  Mary  simply. 

"  Thou  art  sure  that  He  said,  '  whosoever  '  ?" 

"  He  hath  said  it — not  once,  but  many  times," 
answered  the  mother  of  Jesus. 

"And  what  is  it  that  I  must  believe?"  asked 
Prisca,  trembling. 

"  That  He  came  down  from  God,  to  seek  and 
to  save  that  which  was  lost;  and  that  He  is  able 
to  accomplish  that  for  which  He  came,"  an- 
swered Mary. 

"  How  could  I  help  but  believe  that?— did  He 
not  save  my  Stephen  from  worse  than  death!" 
Clasping  her  thin  hands,  gbe  cried  out  joyfully: 
"  I  believe  that  He  is  able!"  Then  she  closed 


her  eyes  and  lay  so  quiet,  that  Mary  thought 
she  slept.  Presently  Stephen  stole  into  the 
room,  and  stood  beside  the  bed,  looking  down 
at  his  mother. 

"  What  thinkest  thou?"  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Doth  she  mend?" 

But  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  sick  woman 
opened  her  eyes.  "  I  have  been  a  great  sinner 
above  most,"  she  said  faintly.  "  But  He  came 
to  save  me,  and  I  am  at  peace.  Thou  wilt  find 
Titus— give  him  this.  She  will  tell  thee  all." 

Then  the  dark  eyes  closed  again,  and  for  the 
last  time.  The  two  sat  beside  the  bed  and 
watched  the  quiet  sleeper  through  the  long 
hours  of  the  night.  Just  at 
dawn,  the  pale  lips  moved,  and 
Stephen,  stooping  down, 
caught  two  words:  "Stephen- 
Jesus."  Then  the  faint  breath 
stopped  altogether.  She  had 
entered  into  everlasting  life. 

After  the  simple  funeral, 
which  took  place,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  Eastern  custom, 
at  evening  of  the  same  day, 
Stephen  heard  from  the  lips  of 
Mary  the  story  of  Titus. 

He  was  greatly  moved. 
"  Poor  mother!"  he  said.  "  No 
wonder  she  wept,  with  such  a 
burden  on  her  heart.  She  was 
a  timid  soul  and  lived  al- 
ways a  life  of  terror." 

Then  he  told  the  mother  of 
Jesus  all  that  he  knew  of  his 
father's  evil  life.  "  He  is  all  I 
have  left  now,"  he  said  bit- 
terly, when  he  had  finished. 

"  Dost  thou  mean  that?"  said 
Mary. 

"  No!  A  thousand  times  no!" 
cried  Stephen  impetuously,  as 
he  caught  her  meaning.  "  Didst  thou  hear  my 
mother's  last  words?  In  that  moment  when 
with  her  dying  breath  she  coupled  my  name 
with  His,  I  knew  what  I  must  do.  I  shall  givo 
my  whole  life  to  Him." 

"  Thou  shalt  indeed,"  said  Mary,  gazing  away 
over  the  hills  with  a  solemn  look  in  her  deep 
eyes.  "  But  I  know  not  what  the  future  hath 
in  store  for  Him.  He  hath  bitter  enemies;  some- 
times I  fear  for  His  life."  And  she  turned  to 
Stephen  wth  a  tremulous  quiver  of  her  sweet, 
firm  mouth. 

"  Is  He  not  the  Beloved  of  the  Father?"  said 
Stephen  simply.  "  And  is  the  Father  not  able  to 
save  Him  from  the  hand  of  His  enemies?" 

"  '  He  shall  make  His  enemies  His  footstool,' 
even  as  it  is  written,"  answered  Mary,  in  a  firm 
voice,  "  and  He  shall  triumph  gloriously!" 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OP  THE  CBOSS. 


Stephen  regarded  her  with  awe. 

After  a  little  silence,  she  said:  "To-morrow 
thou  must  go  forth  even  as  thy  mother  bade  thee. 
that  thou  mayst  find  the  young  man  David,  and 
acquaint  him  with  all  that  hath  happened.  As 
for  me,  I  am  going  up  to  Jerusalem.  Something 
tells  rue  that  He  will  have  need  of  me." 


1  Enough!"  said  Caiaphas.    "  Leave  me;  and  prepare  the  council  chamber. 


And  so  it  happened  that  in  the  morning  early, 
Stephen  set  forth  alone  on  his  journey,  bearing 
with  him  the  little  tunic  wrought  by  the  mother 
of  Titus,  and  the  silver  chain  which  had  be- 
longed to  his  own  dead  mother.  And  when  he 
departed  Mary  blessed  him  and  kissed  him;  and 
he  wept,  as  he  bade  her  farewell,  for  he  was 
but  a  lad  after  all,  and  the  world  was  wide  and 
looely. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Caiaphas  was  striding  up  and  down  the  floor 
of  his  own  private  apartment,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  his  head  bent  forward  on  his 
breast.  His  eyes  were  blazing  with  an  angry 
light  beneath  his  brows,  and  now  and  then 
he  muttered  fiercely  to  him- 
self, "  Blasphemer!  He  shall 
be  crushed!  Have  I  not  vowed 
it— I,  Caiaphas,  the  High 
Priest?  He  shall  not  defy  me 
longer!" 

Hearing  a  slight  sound  out- 
side, he  strode  rapidly  to  the 
door  of  the  chamber,  and 
flung  it  open. 

"Ah,  Malchus!  'Tis  thou. 
Enter!  Well,  what  hast  thou 
to  say?" 

The  man  bent  his  head 
humbly.  "  Most  worshipful 
master,  I  went  as  I  was  bid- 
den to  Bethany.  When  I 
reached  the  place,  I  had  not 
the  slightest  difficulty  in  find- 
ing the  abode  of  Lazarus;  the 
streets  were  thronged  with 
people  going  and  coming  to 
the  house,  which  I  found  to  be 
one  of  the  humbler  cottages  of 
the  town,  albeit  comfortable 
and  tidy." 

"  I  care  not  what  sort  of  a 
place  it  was,"  interrupted 
Caiaphas  irritably.  "  The 
man!— didst  thou  see  the 
man?" 

"  I  saw  the  man  Lazarus- 
alive  and  well,"  continued 
Malchus.  "  He  was  in  th-i 
garden  of  his  house  talking  to 
the  people." 

"  Talking  to  the  people,  was 
he!"  sneered  the  High  Priest. 
"  The  country  is  full  of  orators 
nowadays.  And  what  said 
he?" 

"  He  was  telling  the  story  of 
his  resurrection.  He  said  that 
the  four  days  which  he  passed 
in  the  tomb  were  as  a  sleep.  He  hath  still  a  faint 
memory  of  wondrous  dreams,  but  cannot  tell 
clearly  what  they  were  like.  He  was  also  prais- 
ing and  blessing  God,  and  ascribing  equal 
praises  to  the  Nazarene,  whom  he  called  the 
Son  of  God,  and  the  Consolation  of  Israel." 

Caiaphas   ground   his   teeth.    "  And   the  peo- 
ple?" 
"The  people  all  cried  aloud,   'Hallelujah!' 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


and  '  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David!'  All  Beth- 
any hath  gone  mad  over  the  thing;  such  a  won- 
der hath  never  even  been  heard  of." 

"  'Tis  a  palpable  lie,  and  hath  been  invented 
by  this  fellow  and  His  followers  to  make  an  up- 
roar just  at  Feast  time!  Didst  thou  question 
others  concerning  the  thing,  as  I  bade  thee?" 

The  man  looked  gravely  at  his  master.  "  'Tis 
regarded  as  a  veritable  miracle  in  Bethany,"  he 
said.  "  I  made  the  most  careful  investigation, 
even  as  thou  didst  command  me,  questioning 
many  discreet  and  prudent  persons  concerning 
the  matter.  I  also  examined  the  tomb  in  which 
he  lay.  The  man  was  unquestionably  dead,  and 
had  been  buried  four  days;  but  how  the  Nais- 
arene  was  able  to  restore  him  to  life,  except  by 
the  power  of  God,  I  know  not;  nor  could  any 
one  tell  me." 

"  Keep  thy  senses,  man!  Let  not  the  evil  one 
prevail  over  thee!"  said  the  High  Priest,  looking 
sternly  at  his  favorite  servant.  "  No  disciple  of 
the  Blasphemer  shall  serve  me." 

"  I  am  not  a  disciple,"  replied  Malchus,  look- 
ing down  upon  the  ground.  "  But  the  thing  is 
beyond  my  understanding." 

"  Enough!"  said  Caiaphas,  with  an  impatient 
gesture.  "  Leave  me;  and  prepare  the  council 
chamber.  Let  it  be  in  readiness  within  an  hour." 


"We  have  dealt  gently  with  this  thing  too 
long  already;  the  Man  must  be  put  out  of  the 
way,  and  that  speedily!" 

The  speaker  was  the  venerable  Annas.  He  was 
the  centre  of  an  excited  group  in  the  council 
chamber  of  the  High  Priest.  "  If  we  let  Him 
thus  alone,  as  we  have  been  doing  for  almost 
three  years  now,  all  men  will  believe  on  Him, 
and  the  Romans  will  come  and  take  away  both 
our  place  and  nation;  and  deservedly  so.  He 
should  have  been  dealt  with  long  ago — 'twas  my 
advice  then,  and  could  have  been  easily  followed 
in  the  beginning;  but  the  matter  hath  now 
assumed  such  an  aspect,  that  it  will  be  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  bring  about  His  death." 

"  I  am  not  in  favor  of  putting  the  Man  to 
death,"  said  Nicodemus,  in  his  mild  tones.  "  For 
in  my  opinion  He  hath  done  nothing  worthy  of 
death." 

"Thou  knowest  nothing  at  all!"  broke  out 
Caiaphas,  passionately,  "  nor  dost  consider  that 
it  is  expedient  for  us  that  one  man  should  die 
for  the  people,  and  that  the  whole  nation  perish 
not." 

Nicodemus  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  "  Thou  art  the  High  Priest,"  he  said 
solemnly.  "  Jehovah  speaketh  through  the  words 
of  thy  mouth;  but  God  forbid  that  we  put  an  in- 
nocent man  to  death.  For  my  part  I  will  have 
nothing  further  to  do  with  this  thing." 


"  We  have  long  suspected  that  thou  art  one 
of  His  disciples,"  said  Annas,  with  a  sneer. 
"  Thou  art  therefore  out  of  place  in  the  Council 
of  the  Sanhedrim.  Go  hence,  and  join  thy  illus- 
trious Master,  the  Carpenter,  and  His  followers 
whom  He  hath  gathered  from  the  refuse  of  the 
earth." 

Nicodemus  made  no  reply;  but  he  arose  and 
passed  out  of  the  council  chamber  in  dignified 
silence. 

"  Let  him  go!"  said  Jochanan.  "  'Tis  not  meet 
that  we  lose  time  in  discussing  what  is  suffi- 
ciently obvious  to  all  the  rest  of  our  number." 
As  he  spoke,  he  glanced  around  the  circle,  and 
a  little  murmur  of  applause  followed. 

But  there  was  one  who  did  not  join  in  the  ap- 
plause. He  was  looking  steadily  upon  the  floor 
at  his  feet,  his  fingers  busying  themselves  un- 
easily with  his  long  beard.  The  name  of  this 
man  was  Joseph,  and  he  was  a  native  of  Arima- 
thea. 

"  Now  as  to  the  case  of  this  fellow  Lazarus, 
who  is  making  quite  an  uproar  on  his  own  ac- 
count," continued  Jochanan,  "  what  think  ye? 
It  seemeth  to  me  that  he  were  better  off  in  the 
tomb  from  which  he  was  taken.  If  he  were  in- 
deed dead,  then  was  it  the  will  of  God,  and  he 
should  have  remained  so.  We  shall  not  be  doing 
unlawfully  if  we  carry  out  upon  him  the  sen- 
tence of  death  which  Jehovah  had  Himself 
already  imposed." 

"  Thou  hast  spoken  wisely,"  said  Annas.  "  The 
man  had  evidently  reached  the  proper  limit  of 
his  days;  it  is  more  than  probable  that  his  body 
is  now  animated  by  a  devil,  which  thus  speak- 
eth blasphemously  through  the  flesh.  He  should 
be  put  out  of  the  way,  and  that  speedily.  See 
to  it;  for  he  leadeth  away  much  people  after 
him." 

"  Moreover,  being  a  dead  body,  which  hath  no 
longer  any  right  on  top  of  the  earth,  he  defileth 
every  man  with  whom  he  cometh  in  contact," 
said  another,  piously. 

"  Let  the  man  Lazarus  alone!"  said  Joseph  of 
Arimathea,  unable  to  restrain  himself  any 
longer.  "  I  know  him  well;  he  is  an  honest  man 
and  a  just.  I  have  also  seen  him  since  his  resur- 
rection from  the  dead— if  so  it  was.  He  hath  not 
a  devil;  and  believing  what  he  doth,  he  justly 
praiseth  God  for  his  deliverance,  and  glorifieth 
with  Him  his  Savior  from  the  tomb." 

"  The  matter  can  be  discussed  later,"  said 
Annas  smoothly.  "  Can  any  one  inform  me  of 
the  whereabouts  of  the  Nazarene?" 

"  He  hath  come  even  to-day  to  Bethany,  where 
He  sojourneth  with  this  same  Lazarus,"  said 
Caiaphas.  "  I  was  informed  of  the  fact  as  I 
entered  the  council  chamber.  He  undoubtedly 
purposeth  to  be  in  Jerusalem  for  the  Feast.  He 
must  be  seized  in  secret,  that  there  be  no  uproar 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


63 


among  the  people.  And  there  must  also  be  some 
evidence  secured  against  Him,  which  shall 
bring  Him  under  Roman  jurisdiction.  For,  as 
ye  know,  this  tribunal  hath  not  the  power  to  put 
any  man  to  -death." 

The  eyes  of  several  present  flashed  danger- 
ously, at  this  reference  to  the  Roman  supremacy 
and  the  national  degradation.  But  Annas  has- 
tened to  say  blandly: 

"  The  Romans  have  not  shown  themselves  un- 
friendly to  the  church  of  the  living  God — our 
Temple  beareth  witness  to  the  fact;  we  must 
not  forget  it,  nor  blindly  risk  being  crushed  by 
the  iron  hand  of  Rome.  We  must  rather  seek 
to  ally  ourselves  to  them  in  every  way  in  our 
power.  If  this  Man  Jesus  can  be  convicted  of 
plotting  against  the  government,  our  work  will 
be  practically  done.  We  can  then  deliver  Him 
over  into  the  hand  of  Pilate,  assured  that  He 
will  be  dealt  with  after  His  deserts.  To-morrow, 
especially,  let  Him  be  watched  closely;  in  such 
a  case  as  this,  the  Sabbath  laws  must  be  re- 
laxed, so  that  we  shall  be  enabled  to  perform 
this  work— which  is  assuredly  one  of  neces- 
sity." 

At  this  moment  a  loud  knocking  was  heard 
at  the  door  of  the  council  chamber.  Caiaphas 
looked  astonished.  "  Who  dareth  to  interrupt 
us  in  our  deliberations!"  he  said  aloud.  "  But 
stay!  It  must  be  something  of  importance!" 
And  he  beckoned  to  one  of  his  brothers-in-law 
to  open  the  door. 

The  man  returned  almost  instantly,  and  said 
in  a  low  voice:  " 'Tis  one  of  the  followers  of 
the  Nazarene.  He  would  speak  with  the  High 
Priest." 

Caiaphas  hesitated. 

"  Wilt  thou  not  command  that  he  be  brought 
before  us?"  suggested  Annas.  "It  may  be  that 
he  hath  repented  himself  of  his  folly  in  joining 
the  Man;  he  might  in  that  case  be  disposed  to 
give  us  timely  assistance." 

"  Let  him  be  brought  in,"  said  Caiaphas. 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  chamber,  broken 
only  by  the  footfalls  of  the  man  who  now  en- 
tered. As  he  stopped  and  hesitated  at  the  sight 
of  the  imposing  assemblage,  it  could  be  seen 
that  he  was  of  low  stature,  and  of  a  singularly 
sinister  and  forbidding  cast  of  countenance. 

Annas  smiled  genially  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
new-comer. 

"  Wilt  thou  not  come  forward  and  acquaint 
us  with  thy  desires?"  he  said  in  his  most 
honeyed  tones. 

The  man  looked  at  him.  "  Art  thou  the  High 
Priest?"  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"  I  am  the  High  Priest,  fellow!  What  wouldst 
thou  with  me?"  demanded  Caiaphas  impa- 
tiently. 

But  Annas  touched  him  warningly.    ''  Thou 


hast  come,  my  good  man,  to  speak  with  us  in 
regard  to  the  Nazarene;  is  it  not  so?"  he  asked. 

The  man's  face  brightened,  and  an  evil  light 
shone  in  his  eyes.  "  Aye!"  he  said  in  a  loud 
voice,  "  I  have!  I  can  no  longer  abide  His  pres- 
ence. It  hath  been  made  known  to  me  that 
thou  art  His  enemy,  therefore  am  I  come." 

"Ah!"  said  Annas  softly,  "thou  wouldst  fain 
return  to  the  bosom  of  the  church  of  thy  fathers, 
and  cease  thy  wanderings  in  by  and  forbidden 
paths;  am  I  not  right?" 

"  I  care  not  for  the  church!"  was  the  bold  re- 
ply, "  any  more  than  the  church  careth  for  me. 
But  I  want  money;  what  wilt  thou  give  me  if  I 
betray  Him  into  thy  hands?" 

Caiaphas  started  to  his  feet,  while  joy  spar- 
kled in  his  eyes.  "  What  will  I  give  thee?"  he 
exclaimed.  "  Why,  man—" 

But  Annas  checked  him,  saying  in  a  low 
voice:  "  Let  me  manage  the  fellow,  my  son;  I 
understand  this  sort  as  thou  dost  not."  Then 
he  went  on  judicially:  "  It  were  worth  no  great 
sum,  assuredly,  my  good  man,  since  we  already 
know  where  He  is  to  be  found.  Still,  thou  might- 
est  be  of  assistance  to  us,  and  we  are  disposed 
to  be  generous.  What  sayest  thou  to  twenty 
pieces  of  silver?" 

The  man  looked  down.  "  'Tis  too  little,"  he 
said  sullenly.  "  Thou  knowest  not  His  haunts 
as  I  do." 

"  True,"  said  Annas  smoothly.  "  I  will  even 
increase  the  amount  by  half.  Betray  Him  into 
oui'  hands  safely,  and  at  a  time  \vhen  there  shall 
be  no  uproar  of  the  people,  and  we  will  give 
thee  thirty  pieces  of  silver* — 'tis  a  goodly  sum 
and  not  to  be  despised." 

The  man  shuffled  uneasily  on  his  feet,  and 
looked  furtively  about  him  at  the  evidences  of 
wealth  on  every  side.  But  he  made  no  answer. 

Caiaphas,  in  a  fury  of  impatience,  was  about 
to  burst  out  into  speech,  when  Annas  again 
spoke,  and  this  time  his  cold,  even  tones  had 
a  shade  of  sternness  in  them: 

"  Thou  must  decide  quickly,  for  we  are  con- 
sidering other  plans.  Wilt  thou  have  the  thirty 
pieces,  or  wilt  thou  not?  Thy  Master  is  doomed 
in  any  event."  , 

The  man  was  silent  for  a  moment  longer, 
then  he  said  slowly: 

"Well,  I  will  do  it;  'tis  a  small  sum.  But  I 
am  a  poor  man;  I  must  look  out  for  myself.  I 
have  wasted  many  months  in  following  this 
Jesus.  I  thought  Him  the  Messiah;  but  He  's 
not— He  is  not— He  is  not."  And  his  voice  died 
away  into  an  inarticulate  murmur. 

"  Thou  hast  done  right  and  wisely,  both  for 
thyself  and  for  us,"  said  Annas  warmly,  rising 

*Or  shekels  of  silver.  Equal  to  about  eighteen  dollars  in 
United  States  money.  This  sum  was  the  legal  price  of  9 
slave. 


64 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


and  approaching  the  miserable  wretch,  who  was 
trembling  in  every  limb.  "  Thou  shalt  have  food 
and  wine  before  leaving  the  palace.  But  first, 
what  is  thy  name?  and  what  art  thou  to  the 
Nazarene?" 

"  My  name  is  Judas  Iscariot.  I  am  one  of  the 
twelve  who  are  always  with  Him,"  replied  the 
man,  in  so  low  a  voice  that  Annas  could  hardly 
catch  the  words* 

'"One  of  His  immediate  followers!"  said 
Annas,  rubbing  his  hands,  and  looking  about  the 
circle  of  attentive  listeners  with  a  triumphant 
smile.  "Ah,  this  is  better  than  I  thought;  it  is 
indeed  well!  Now,  my  good  man,  it  is  import- 
ant that  the  Nazarene  should  suspect  nothing 
of  all  this — thou  seest  that,  of  course,  for  thou 
art  a  shrewd  fellow— therefore  attend  strictly  to 
what  I  shall  say.  Go  back  to  Him  and  attend 
Him  as  usual,  till  such  a  time  as  thou  canst 
safely— mind,  I  say  safely,  with  no  disturbance, 
nor  outcry  to  arouse  the  people — deliver  Him 
into  our  hands.  We/ will  take  care  of  the  rest. 
And  the  silver  shall  be  paid  thee  immediately 
thereafter.  This  is  the  earnest  of  the  larger 
sum  which  shall  be  thine."  And  he  pressed  a 
coin  into  the  man's  hand. 

He  clutched  at  it  greedily,  muttering  some- 
thing unintelligible. 

But  Annas  was  content.  "  Here,  Malchus!" 
he  said  cheerfully,  opening  the  door  of  the 
chamber,  "  take  this  good  fellow  and  see  that  he 
hath  an  abundance  both  of  food  and  wine." 

But  at  this,  the  man  turned  fiercely  upon  him. 
"  Nay,  I  am  not  a  beggar!  I  want  only  what  is 
justly  due  me."  Then  looking  full  into  the  eyes 
of  Annas,  he  hissed:  "Thou  shalt  have  Him! 
Do  not  doubt  it;  for  I  hate  Him,  even  as  thou 
dost!" 

After  that  he  turned  and  went  swiftly  away, 
without  once  looking  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WANT  to  go  home,  mother!  Why 
must  we  stay  here  so  long?"  and 
the  child  tugged  impatiently  at 
his  mother's  robe. 

"  Nay,  my  child,  thou  must  be 
patient.  We  have  not  long  to 
wait  now.  See,  here  is  a  cake 
for  thee;  eat  it  while  I  tell  thee  again  why  we 
are  here,  for  thou  must  remember  this  day  to 
thy  latest  breath." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  child,  between  his  mouth- 
fuls,  looking  up  into  his  mother's  face. 

"  When  thou  wert  a  babe,  my  Gogo,  thou  wast 
nigh  unto  death;  and  this  Jesus  healed  thee." 


"  Thou  hast  told  me  that  many  times!  Give 
me  another  cake;  I  am  hungry." 

"  Yes,  my  son,  I  have  told  thee  many  times, 
for  had  it  not  been  for  this  Jesus,  thou  wouldst 
even  now  be  lying  in  the  grave — and  I  should  be 
childless!  My  child!  My  love!"  And  the 
mother  embraced  the  little  form  with  passionate 
tenderness. 

"  Why  dost  thou  hold  me  so  tight,  mother?" 
asked  the  boy,  shaking  the  curls  out  of  his  eyes. 
"  Oh!  see  that  lovely  bird!" 

"Never  mind  the  bird,  child,  but  listen!  This 
Jesus  is  a  King— the  Messiah.  To-day  He  is 
coming  along  this  road,  and  thou  shalt  see  Him." 

"  A  King!    Will  He  wear  a  crown?" 

"  I  know  not.  It  may  be.  We  shall  see.  But 
look  at  the  people! — thousands  upon  thousands 
of  them!  We  have  a  good  place  here.  We  shall 
be  near  Him." 

"  Nay,  I  like  it  not;  I  care  not  to  see  a  king.  I 
would  rather  play.  Let  us  go  home!" 

"Hark!  Dost  thou  hear  that?"  cried  another 
woman  who  stood  near.  "  They  are  coming! 
What  is  it  that  they  are  saying—'  Hosamia! 
Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David!  Blessed  is  He 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord!  Hosanna 
in  the  highest!'  Ah,  'tis  a  blessed  day!  To 
think  that  we  should  live  to  see  it!  But  see  thy 
people  running!  They  are  stripping  down,  the 
palm  leaves!" 

"Why  do  they  do  that,  mother?"  again  ques- 
tioned the  little  one. 

"  Thou  shalt  sit  on  my  shoulder  and  see.  Now 
art  thou  as  tall  as  a  man,  and  can  see  further 
than  I.  What  seest  thou?" 

"  I  see  many  people  coming— and  a  Man  rid- 
ing upon  a  mule,"  replied  the  child. 

"  Yes!  yes!"  said  the  other  woman,  "  I  see 
also.  Can  it  be  He?  The  people  are  shouting 
and  throwing  the  palm  branches  before  Him! 
See!  they  strip  off  their  garments,  and  lay  them 
also  in  the  road!"* 

And  now  the  procession  was  close  at  hand; 
"  and  the  whole  multitude  of  the  disciples  be- 
gan to  rejoice  and  praise  God  with  a  loud  voice, 
for  all  the  mighty  works  that  they  had  seen, 
saying: 

**"  Give  thou  the  triumph,  O  Jehovah,  to  the 
Son  of  David!  Blessed  be  the  kingdom  of  our 
father  David,  now  to  be  restored  in  the  name  of 
Jehovah!  Blessed  be  He  that  cometh— the  King 
of  Israel— in  the  name  of  Jehovah.  Our  peace 
and  salvation  are  from  God  above!  Praised  be 
He  in  the  highest  heavens!  From  the  highest 
heavens  send  Thou  now  salvation!" 

"  Look  at  Him,  child!    'Tis  the  King— the  Mes- 

*An  oriental  mark  of  honor  at  the  reception  of  kings  on 
their  entrance  into  cities. 
**Afterward  the  first  hymn  of  the  Christian  Church, 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


65 


siah!  Shout  now  with  me — Hosanna  to  the 
Kiii^!  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David!" 

"  Hold  thy  peace,  woman!  Art  thou  mad,  that 
thou  teac-iiest  thy  innocent  babe  to  blaspheme?" 

The  woman,  startled  by  these  harsh  words, 
turned  about  and  fixed  her  eyes,  large  with 
fright,  rpon  the  speaker.  She  saw  that  he  was 
a  riiarisee,  and  clasping  the  little  one  closer  to 
her  breast,  she  said: 

"  I  know  not  what  thou  sayest.  He  is  the 
Savior  of  my  child;  therefore  I  praise  Him." 

But  the  man  paid  no  heed  to  her  answer;  he 
was  pressing  forward  into  the  throng  which  sur- 
rounded the  Master. 

"  Hearest  thou  what  these  be  saying?"  he 
shouted  angrily.  "  Bid  them  hold  their  peace!" 

The  Master  turned,  and  looking  upon  him, 
said:  "  I  tell  you  that  if  these  should  hold  their 
peace,  the  stones  would  immediately  cry  out." 

"  And  when  He  was  near,  He  beheld  the  city, 
and  wept  over  it,  saying,  If  thou  hadst  known, 
even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things 
which  belong  unto  thy  peace!  But  now  they  are 
hid  from  thine  eyes.  For  the  days  shall  come 
upon  thee,  that  thine  enemies  shall  cast  a  trench 
about  thee,  and  compass  thee  round,  and  keep 
thee  in  on  every  side,  and  shall  lay  thee  even 
with  the  ground,  and  thy  children  within  thee. 
And  they  shall  not  leave  in  thee  one  stone  upon 
another;  because  thou  knewest  not  the  time  of 
thy  visitation.  And  when  He  was  come  into 
Jerusalem,  all  the  city  was  moved,  saying,  Who 
is  this?  And  the  multitude  answered,  This  is 
Jesus,  the  prophet  of  Nazareth  of  Galilee." 

As  the  procession  passed  within  the  city  gates, 
and  the  sound  of  the  chanting  and  acclamations 
died  away,  one  of  a  group  of  men  in  foreign 
dress  who  had  been  intent  witnesses  of  the 
scene,  turned  to  his  companions.  "  What  say 
ye  to  this,  friends?"  he  asked  earnestly. 

"  'Tis  a  wondrous  sight  And  the  Man! — His 
countenance  hath  a  look  upon  it  that  is  not  of 
earth.  Know  ye  aught  concerning  Him?" 

"  I  have  heard,  mine  Apelles,  that  He  is  in 
deed  and  in  truth  the  Prince  long  expected  of 
the  Jews,  and  foretold  in  their  Scriptures.  Even 
now  they  look  to  see  Him  establish  His  throne 
in  Jerusalem.  I  would  fain  see  Him,  and  stand 
in  His  presence." 

"  I  also,  mine  Andronicus,"  said  another.  "But 
how  may  that  be?  We  are  Gentiles— albeit  con- 
verts from  the  pagan  faith  of  our  fathers  to 
the  one  only  and  true  God.  Would  this  King 
of  the  Jews  suffer  us  to  approach  Him?" 

"  Nay,  I  know  not,"  answered  Apelles.  "  But 
He  hath  not  yet  hedged  Himself  about  with  the 
grandeur  of  a  king.  Didst  thou  see  how  even 
the  children  and  the  women  approached  Him 
fearlessly?" 


"  'Tis  true,"  said  one  who  had  hitherto  been 
silent.  "  If  He  be  a  king,  He  is  a  king  apart 
from  the  kings  of  this  earth.  His  followers  be 
humble  meu.  One  of  them  is  known  to  me.  He 
hath  a  Greek  name — Philip.  Let  us  seek  him  and 
inquire  further  of  this  matter."  And  forthwith 
they  all  entered  into  the  city  and  sought  the 
Temple.  For  there  they  hoped  to  find  the  man 
Philip. 

As  they  passed  into  the  Court  of  the  Gentiles, 
the  quick  eye  of  Rufus  caught  sight  of  the  man 
of  whom  he  had  spoken,  about  to  pass  into  the 
inner  court,  whither  these  foreigners  could  not 
come.  Starting  forward  hastily,  Rufus  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  said  in  a  low  voice:  "  A 
word  with  thee,  good  friend." 

Philip  turned  himself  about,  and  as  his  eye 
fell  upon  the  swarthy  face  of  the  Greek,  he  drew 
back  a  little,  and  said  somewhat  coldly: 

"  Ah,  Rufus,  'tis  thou!    What  wilt  thou?" 

"  I  would  have  speech  with  thee  for  a  mo- 
ment," replied  Rufus.  "  I  and  certain  of  my 
countrymen— like  myself  converts  to  the  religion 
of  the  Jews— have  come  up  to  the  Feast  and  to- 
day we  saw  the  Man  who  is  called  the  prophet 
of  Nazareth  as  He  entered  into  the  city;  and  cer- 
tain strange  things  also  concerning  Him  have 
come  to  our  ears.  Sir,  we  would  fain  see  this 
Jesus  for  ourselves,  that  we  also  may  learn  of 
Him." 

Philip  looked  troubled.  "  Friend,  thou  art  a 
Gentile,  notwithstanding  that  thou  hast  turned 
from  idolatry  to  the  true  faith.  I  know  not 
whether  this  may  be.  And  yet— stay!  I  will 
consult  with  another  of  our  number.  Wait  here; 
I  will  return  speedily."  So  saying,  he  turned 
away  and  was  quickly  lost  to  view  in  the  crowd 
which  filled  the  place. 

The  Greek  beckoned  to  his  companions. 
"  Thou  wert  right,  mine  Apelles."  he  said  bit- 
terly; "  these  Jews  cannot  forget  that  we  are 
but  strangers  within  the  gate." 

"  He  will  not  receive  us  then!"  said  Apelles  in 
a  tone  of  deep  disappointment.  "  Let  us  depart 
out  of  this  place,  and  I  care  not  whether  I  ever 
return." 

"  Nay,  friend— thou  art  over-hasty,"  said 
Rufus,  smiling  at  the  impetuous  young  man. 
"  We  have  directions  to  wait  here  until  the  fol- 
lower of  the  Nazarene  hath  made  sure  of  the 
matter.  Nevertheless,  he  reminded  me  that  I 
was  a  Gentile.  'Tis  a  name  that  I  hate!  But 
see!  he  is  returning,  and  with  him  another." 

"  We  have  spoken  with  the  Master  concerning 
thee,"  said  Philip,  "  and  since  it  is  unlawful  for 
thee  to  come  to  Him  in  the  inner  courts  of  the 
Temple,  He  will  even  come  forth  unto  thee.  Ho 
is  ever  merciful  and  hath  compassion  on  the 
lowliest."  ho  add?;l. 

The  proud,  sensitive  face  of  Apelles  flushed 


66 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


at  these  words,  but  Andronicus  made  an- 
swer: 

"  Thy  Master  doeth  us  honor.  It  may  be  that 
even  we,  Gentiles  though  we  be,  shall  yet  render 
Him  some  service  which  shall  be  acceptable 
unto  Him." 

Philip  bowed  his  head  gravely,  but  made  no 
answer.  Then,  lifting  up  his  eyes,  he  said: 
"  The  Master  is  at  hand." 

And  the  Greeks,  looking  earnestly  in  the  direc- 
tion to  which  he  pointed,  saw  approaching  them 
the  Jesus  whom  they  had  longed  for.  They 
bowed  in  lowliest  reverence  before  Him,  and 
Jesus,  lifting  up  His  face  to  heaven,  said: 

"  The  hour  is  come  that  the  Son  of  man  should 
be  glorified." 

Then  looking  searchingly  into  the  earnest  faces 
before  Him,  He  continued,  "  Verily,  verily  I  say 
unto  you,  except  a  grain  of  wheat  fall  into  the 
earth  and  die,  it  abideth  by  itself  alone;  but 
if  it  die,  it  beareth  much  fruit.  He  that  loveth 
his  life  loseth  it,  and  he  that  hateth  his  life  in 
this  world  shall  keep  it  unto  life  eternal.  If  any 
man  would  serve  me,  let  him  follow  me;  and 
where  I  am,  there  shall  also  my  servant  be.  If 
any  man  serve  me,  him  will  the  Father  honor." 

Here  He  paused  for  a  moment,  evidently  lost 
in  thought;  then  again  lifting  His  face  toward 
the  cloudless  spring  heavens,  He  said  in  a  tone 
of  pathetic  patience:  "  Now  is  my  soul  troubled; 
and  what  shall  I  say?  Father,  save  me  from 
this  hour.  But  for  this  cause  came  I  unto  this 
hour.  Father,  glorify  thy  name." 

Then  sounded  forth  a  great  and  melodious 
voice,  filling  all  the  infinite  space  of  the  sun-lit 
sky  above  them: 

"  I  have  both  glorified  it,  and  will  glorify^  it 
again." 

The  Greeks  were  awe-stricken  at  the  prayer 
and  at  its  wondrous  answer.  Instinctively  they 
covered  their  faces  with  their  hands,  and  sank 
upon  the  earth. 

"  It  thunders,"  said  one  of  a  group  of  Jewish 
Rabbis  who  stood  by,  enviously  watching  the 
scene. 

"  An  angel  hath  spoken  to  Him,"  murmured 
others  beneath  their  breath. 

And  the  Master  answering  said:  "This  voice 
hath  not  come  for  my  sake,  but  for  your  sakes. 
Now  is  the  judgment  of  this  world:  now  shall 
the  prince  of  this  world  be  cast  out.  And  I,  if  I 
be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men 
unto  me." 

"  We  have  heard  out  of  the  Law  that  the 
Christ  abideth  forever,"  said  one  of  the  Rabbis: 
"  and  how  sayest  thou,  that  the  Sou  of  man  must 
be  crucified?  Who  is  this  Son  of  man?" 

And  Jesus  made  answer: 

"  Yet  a  little  while  is  the  light  among  you. 
Walk  while  ye  have  the  light,  that  darkness 


overtake  you  not;  and  he  that  walketh  in  dark- 
ness knoweth  not  whither  he  goeth.  While  ye 
have  the  light,  believe  on  the  light,  that  ye  may 
become  sons  of  light." 

Then  He  went  away  and  was  seen  no  more  of 
the  multitudes  that  day. 

And  the  Greeks  departed  out  of  the  Temple, 
communing  earnestly  together  of  all  that  they 
had  both  seen  and  heard. 

"  Let  us  tarry  in  Jerusalem,"  they  said,  "  that 
we  may  again  speak  with  Him." 

But  the  Jews  believed  not,  for  their  eyes  were 
blinded  to  the  light,  and  their  souls  were  filled 
with  bitterness  and  envy. 

Yet  because  of  the  voice  from  heaven  some 
even  of  the  rulers  believed;  but  they  durst  not 
confess  it,  because  they  feared  the  Pharisees. 
Verily,  they  loved  the  glory  of  men  more  than 
the  glory  of  God. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


ONDER  is  a  man  bearing  a 
pitcher.  Dost  see  him?  He  is 
coming  this  way." 

"  I  see  him,"  said  Peter,  look- 
ing earnestly  in  the  direction  in 
which  John  was  pointing.  "  Let 
•  •''•  us   follow   quickly,    lest   he  es- 

cape out  of  our  sight." 

So  the  two  followed  the  man,  who  presently 
paused  before  the  gateway  of  a  house,  seemingly 
that  of  a  well-to-do  family.  The  two  entered 
boldly  in  after  the  pitcher-bearer,  who  turned  to 
stare  at  them  with  amazement. 

"  We  would  see  the  master  of  the  house,"  said 
Peter  authoritatively. 

The  man  made  obeisance.  "  Wait  here  for  a 
moment,  good  sirs,  and  I  will  fetch  him,"  he 
said,  looking  curiously  at  the  two. 

Presently  he  returned,  followed  by  an  elderly 
man. 

"  If  thou  art  the  master  of  the  house,"  said 
Peter,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him,  "  I  have  a  mes- 
sage for  thee." 

The  man  bowed  his  head.  "  Speak,"  he  re- 
plied. "  and  I  will  listen." 

"  This  is  my  message,"  continued  Peter.  "  The 
Master  saith  unto  thee,  '  Where  is  the  guest 


TITUS,  A  COMEADE  OF  THE  CEOSS. 


67 


chamber,  where  I  shall  eat  the  Passover  with 
my  disciples?" 

"  'Tis  the  word  I  received  in  my  dream,"  mur- 
mured the  man,  as  if  to  himself.  "  Lo,  I  have 
prepared  the  chamber,  and  it  is  ready.  Follow 
me." 

They  followed  him,  and  he  showed  them  a. 
large  upper  room,  furnished  with  everything 
needful  for  the  feast.  And  they  made  ready 
the  Passover. 

And  when  it  was  evening  Jesus  came  with  His 
disciples,  that  they  might  eat  of  the  supper. 
And  as  they  reclined  at  the  table — as  was  the 
custom— Jesus  being  in  the  midst,  He  looked 
about  upon  the  twelve  and  said:  "With  desire 
I  have  desired  to  eat  this  Passover  with  you 
before  I  suffer.  For  I  say  unto  you,  I  will  not 
any  more  eat  thereof,  until  it  be  fulfilled  in  the 
kingdom  of  God." 

And  as  they  were  eating,  He  said:  "  Verily  I 
say  unto  you,  that  one  of  you  shall  betray  me." 

And  they  were  all  astonished  and  exceeding 
sorrowful,  and  began  every  one  of  them  to  say 
unto  Him:  "  Lord,  is  it  I?" 

Now  John,  who  was  especially  beloved  by  the 
Master,  was  next  to  Him  at  the  table.  Peter, 
looking  at  him  attentively,  motioned  that  he 
should  ask  Jesus  who  it  was  of  whom  He  spoke. 

And  John  said  very  softly,  so  as  to  be  heard 
by  no  one  save  the  Master,  "  Lord,  who  is  it?" 

And  Jesus,  in  the  same  low  tone,  made  an- 
swer: "  'Tis  he  to  whom  I  shall  give  a  morsel 
of  bread,  when  I  have  dipped  it  in  the  dish." 

Then  breaking  from  the  thin  cake  of  bread 
before  him  a  fragment,  He  rolled  it  up,  and 
dipping  it  into  the  dish— as  is  the  Eastern  cus- 
tom to  this  day— gave  it  to  Judas  Iscariot. 

As  Judas  accepted  this  little  token  of  friend- 
ship from  the  hand  of  Him  whom  he  had  once 
loved,  all  the  awful  passions  of  his  soul  broke 
their  bonds.  He  started  up,  his  eyes  blazing 
with  an  evil  light.  Jesus  looked  at  him,  and 
said,  still  in  a  low  voice:  "  What  thou  doest,  do 
quickly." 

And  unable  to  bear  the  look  in  those  eyes, 
Judas  slunk  out  of  the  room  and  hurried  away 
in  the  darkness,  muttering  fiercely  to  himself. 

When  he  had  gone,  Jesus  said  to  the  eleven: 
"  Now  is  the  Son  of  man  glorified,  and  God  is 
glorified  in  Him.  Little  children,  yet  a  little 
while  I  am  with  you.  Ye  shall  seek  me;  but 
whither  I  go,  ye  cannot  come.  A  new  command- 
ment I  give  unto  you,  That  ye  love  one  another, 
even  as  I  have  loved  you." 

And  He  took  bread  and  blessed  it,  and  brake 
it,  and  gave  to  the  disciples,  and  said:  "Take, 
eat;  this  is  my  body,  which  is  given  for  you. 
This  do  in  remembrance  of  me." 

And  He  took  the  cup,  and  gave  thanks,  and 
gave  it  to  them,  saying,  Drink  ye  all  of  it.  For 


this  is  my  blood  of  the  new  testament,  which 
is  shed  for  many  for  the  remission  of  sins. 
This  do  ye,  as  often  as  ye  shall  drink  it,  in  re- 
membrance of  me.  But  I  say  unto  you,  I  will 
not  drink  henceforth  of  this  fruit  of  the  vine, 
until  that  day  when  I  drink  it  new  with  you  in 
my  Father's  kingdom." 

Then  Peter  said  to  Him:  "  Lord,  where  is  it 
that  thou  art  going?"  For  he  was  perplexed 
and  sorrowful,  as  were  they  all. 

Jesus  answered  him:  "Whither  I  go,  thou 
canst  not  follow  me  now,  but  thou  shalt  follow 
me  afterward." 

"Lord,  why  cannot  I  follow  thee  now?"  in- 
sisted Peter  anxiously.  "  I  will  lay  down  my 
life  for  thy  sake." 

Jesus  looked  at  him  sorrowfully,  as  He  an- 
swered: "Every  one.  of  you  shall  be  offended 
because  of  me  this  night.  For  it  is  written,  '  I 
will  smite  the  shepherd,  and  the  sheep  of  the 
flock  shall  be  scattered  abroad.'  But  after  I  am 
risen  I  will  go  before  you  into  Galilee." 

"  Though  all  men  should  be  offended  because 
of  thee,"  declared  Peter  passionately,  "  yet  will 
I  never  be  offended!" 

"  Simon!  Simon!"  said  the  Lord  warningly, 
"  behold,  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  you,  that 
he  may  sift  you  as  wheat.  But  I  have  prayed  for 
thee,  that  thy  faith  fail  not.  And  when  thou  art 
converted,  strengthen  thy  brethren." 

But  Peter  answered  Him  yet  again:  "  Lord,  I 
am  ready  to  go  with  thee  both  into  prison  and  to 
death." 

Then  said  Jesus  sadly:  "Verily  I  say  unto 
thee,  that  this  day— even  in  this  night— before 
the  cock  crow  twice,  thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice." 

"  If  I  should  die  with  thee,"  cried  Peter,  ve- 
hemently, "  I  will  not  deny  thee  in  any  way." 

And  all  the  others  said  the  same. 

Then  Jesus  had  compassion  on  them,  as  He 
thought  of  all  that  they  must  suffer  in  the 
future;  and  He  said  many  sweet  and  comfort- 
ing things  to  them,  which  though  they  forgot  in 
the  terror  and  confusion  that  shortly  followed, 
John  afterward  remembered  and  wrote  of  it  all. 
And  it  hath  come  down  to  us,  even  to  this  day. 
Likewise  He  prayed  with  them.  After  that  they 
sang  a  last  hymn  together,  and  went  forth  into 
the  night. 

Now  when  they  wero  come  to  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  they  went  into  a  garden  there,  called 
Gethsemane,  which  is,  being  interpreted,  the  oil 
press;  for  many  great  olive  trees  grew  therein; 
and  there  was  also  a  stone  trough,  where,  in 
the  season,  it  was  the  custom  to  tread  out  the 
oil  from  the  ripe  fruit. 

It  was  a  calm  and  peaceful  spot,  well  beloved 
by  the  Master  as  a  place  of  prayer  and  rest. 
Overhead  the  great  Passover  moon  shed  a  flood 
of  mellow  light,  which,  sifting  through  the  new 


T1TU8,  A   COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


leaves,  lay  in  silvery  patches  on  the  ground 
beneath. 

As  they  entered  the  garden,  Jesus  said  to  His 
disciples,  "  Sit  ye  here,  while  I  go  and  pray  yon- 
der." 

Then  taking  Peter  and  James  and  John,  He 
passed  further  on  among  the  gnarled  trunks  of 
the  olives. 

"  My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto 
death,"  He  said,  at  length,  His  eyes  dim  with 
anguish.  "  Tarry  ye  here  and  watch."  And  the 
three  stopped,  as  they  were  bidden,  throwing 


Garden  of  Gethsemane  as  it  appears 


themselves  down  on  the  soft  spring  grass,  to 
wait  His  pleasure. 

.And  He  went  from  them  about  a  stone's  cast, 
and  kneeled  down;  and  they  heard  Him  pray- 
ing. 

"  Abba,  Father,  all  things  are  possible  unto 
thee;  if  thou  be  willing,  remove  this  cup  from 
me;  nevertheless  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done." 

And  as  they  sat  apart,  and  watched  Him  there, 
a  confused  drowsiness  and  heaviness  of  spirit 
fell  upon  them,  so  that  they  could  no  longer  see 
nor  hear  distinctly.  They  fancied  that  they  dis- 
cerned dimly  the  radiant  figure  of  an  angel, 
stooping  over  that  prostrate  form — or  was  it  but 
the  silver  light  of  the  moonbeams  falling  inter- 
ruptedly through  the  branches?  Their  spirits 
wore  drowned  in  that  strange  slumber  which 
held  them  fast,  so  that  they  could  not  move, 
though  they  dimly  knew  His  agony. 

Was  it  simply  the  sleep  of  tired  men,  or  was  it 


that  Omnipotence  deemed  the  scene  too  sacred 
for  mortal  eyes  to  look  upon?  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  Man  Jesus  sorely  longed  for  human  sympa- 
thy, and  when  He  came — His  brow  crimsoned 
with  the  anguish  of  His  soul —  and  found  them 
asleep,  He  cried  with  bitter  disappointment: 

"  What,  Simon!  Could  ye  not  watch  with  me 
one  hour?  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation."  Then  He  added  tenderly: 
"  The  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  i j 
weak." 

Then  He  went  away  the  second  time  and 
prayed,  saying:  "  Oh, 
my  Father,  if  this  cup 
may  not  pass  away 
from  me,  except  I 
drink  it.  thy  will  be 
done!" 

And  He  came  and 
found  them  asleep 
again,  for  their  eyes 
were  heavy;  neither 
could  they,  when  He 
awoke  them— in  the 
dim  confusion  of  their 
senses— m  a  k  e  Him 
any  answer. 

Verily  might  He 
have  said,  in  the 
words  of  David: 
"  Thy  rebuke  hath 
broken  my  heart.  I 
am  full  of  heaviness; 
I  looked  for  some  one 
to  have  pity  on  me. 
but  there  was  no 
man;  neither  found  I 
any  to  comfort  me."* 
And  He  left  them. 
y'  and  went  away  again 

and  prayed  the  third  time,  saying  the  same 
words. 

Then  He  came  to  His  disciples,  and  found 
them  still  sleeping;  and  He  looked  upon  them 
compassionately  and  said:  "  Sleep  on  now,  and 
take  your  rest;  behold,  the  hour  has  drawn  near, 
and  the  Son  of  man  is  betrayed  into  the  hands 
"  of  sinners." 

Then  He  raised  Himself  up,  and  listened. in- 
tently. The  hour  was  even  now  come;  for  He 
heard  the  sound  of  tramping  feet,  and  caught 
the  glimmer  of  torches  through  the  darkness. 
Turning  to  the  sleepers,  He  cried  aloud,  "  Rise! 
Let  us  be  going!  Behold,  he  is  at  hand  that  doth 
betray  me." 

"  How  knowost  thou  that  we  shall  find  Him 
here?"  queried  Jochanan  impatiently,  as  he 


*Ps,  63:  30. 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OP  THE  CKOSS. 


stumbled  along  at  the  side  of  Judas  through  the 
half  darkness. 

The  man  looked  up,  and  by  the  irregular  flame 
of  the  torch  which  he  carried,  Jochanan  caught, 
the  look  on  his  face;  and  hardened  as  he  was, 
he  recoiled  from  it. 

"  He  will  be  there.  I  know  the  place  well.  He 
goeth  there — to  pray." 

"  Thou  knowest  that  we  must  lose  no  time,'' 
said  Jochanan,  half  apologetically.  He  had 
an  unaccountable  horror  of  this  man. 

"  '  What  thou  doest,  do  quickly.'  They  were 
His  words  to  me,"  said  Judas. 

And  again  Jochanan  felt  that  icy  shiver. 
"Ugh!  The  wind  is  chill!"  he  said,  wrapping 
his  cloak  closer  about  him. 

Judas  laughed,  long  and  loud,  and  muttered 
something  to  himself. 

"  How  shall  we  be  sure  of  seizing  the  right 
man,  if  we  be  fortunate  enough  to  find  Him?" 
continued  Jochanan. 

The  man  laughed  again,  a  mirthless  sound 
and  terrible  to  hear.  "  I  shall  kiss  Him!"  he  an- 
swered. 

Jochanan  wrapped  his  cloak  still  closer  about 
him.  "  I  wish  I  had  compelled  Issachar  to 
come,"  he  muttered.  "  He  is  too  dainty  fine, 
though,  for  an  errand  like  this." 

Then  he  spoke  no  more,  save  to  give  a  few 
sharp  orders  to  the  irregular  mob  of  Temple 
police  and  Roman  soldiers,  which  followed  them. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  Judas  at  length, 
pausing  before  what  dimly  appeared  to  be  a 
stone  gateway.  "  Follow  where  I  lead."  And 
he  strode  away  into  the  uncertain  darkness  of 
the  garden. 

"The  fellow  is  mad!"  said  Jochanan  impa- 
tiently to  Malchus.  "  'Twere  impossible  to  cap- 
ture the  Man  in  a  place  like  this.  He  hath  a 
thousand  chances  to  escape." 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  he  caught  at  the  arm  of 
the  High  Priest's  servant.    "  Who  is  that,  yon- ' 
der?" 

Malchus  looked,  and  saw  in  the  half  darkness 
the  figure  of  a  Man.  Did  he  imagine  it? — or  was 
there  a  mysterious  brightness— a  dim  shining? 
Hark!  There  was  a  voice! 

"  Whom  seek  ye?" 

All  were  silent  for  a  moment,  save  for  the  hiss 
of  an  awed  whisper  among  the  superstitious  sol- 
diers. Then  Jochanan,  gathering  courage,  said 
boldly: 

"  We  seek  Jesus  of  Nazareth." 

And  the  answer  came  calm  and  clear,  "  I  am 
He." 

Something  in  that  voice  struck  terror  to  the 
cowardly  hearts  of  the  mob.  Starting  back  with 
a  common  impulse,  they  stumbled  confusedly 
over  one  another,  with  muttered  imprecations, 
and  cries  of  fear. 


Again  the  voice  and  the  question:  "  Whom  seek 
ye?" 

And  again  they  made  answer:  "  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth." 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  am  He;  if  therefore  ye 
seek  me,  let  these  go  their  way."  That  the  say- 
ing might  be  fulfilled  which  He  spake:  "  Of 
them  which  thou  gavest  me  have  I  lost  none." 

And  Judas,  peering  sharply  into  the  darkness, 
saw  that  the  other  disciples  were  there  also, 
albeit  shrinking  fearfully  in  the  background. 
Then  all  the  old,  long-smothered  hate  and  envy 
burst  forth  within  him.  He  started  forward 
with  a  bound  like  that  of  a  wild  animal,  and 
grasping  the  arm  of  Jesus,  cried  aloud,  "  Hail, 
Rabbi!"  and  kissed  Him. 

The  others  looked  to  see  him  smitten  to  the 
earth;  but  the  Master  only  said  sorrowfully: 
"  Judas,  betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  man  with  a 
kiss?" 

At  this  Peter  started  forward  impetuously. 
"  Lord!  shall  we  smite  with  the  sword?"  he 
cried.  And  without  awaiting  the  answer,  he 
drew  his  weapon,  and  with  a  fierce  but  badly 
aimed  blow,  struck  off  the  ear  of  the  High 
Priest's  servant,  who  was  advancing  to  lay  hold 
of  Jesus. 

"  Peter,  put  up  thy  sword  into  the  sheath," 
said  the  calm,  authoritative  voice  of  the  Master. 
"  The  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me, 
shall  I  not  drink  it?  Thinkest  thou  that  I  can- 
not now  pray  to  my  Father,  and  He  shall  pres- 
ently give  me  more  than  twelve  legions  of 
angels?  But  how  then  shall  the  Scriptures  be 
fulfilled,  that  thus  it  must  be?" 

Then  turning  to  the  soldiers,  who  had  grasped 
Him  tightly  by  the  arms,  He  said:  "  Suffer  ye 
thus  far."  And  reaching  forth  His  hand,  He 
touched  the  wounded  man,  and  healed  him. 

Jochanan  and  the  officers  of  the  Temple,  for- 
getting their  fears,  were  now  crowding  about 
Him  with  insulting  curiosity.  To  them  He  said: 

"  Are  ye  come  out,  as  against  a  thief,  with 
swords  and  with  staves  for  to  take  me?  I  sat 
daily  with  you,  teaching  in  the  Temple,  and  ye 
laid  no  hold  on  me.  But  this  is  your  hour,  and 
the  power  of  darkness." 

When  the  disciples  heard  those  ill-omened 
words,  they  were  panic-stricken.  Giving  one 
last  terrified  glance  at  their  Master  and  Lord, 
apparently  helpless  in  the  brutal  grasp  of  the 
mob,  they  all  forsook  Him  and  fled. 

Now  it  chanced  that  a  friendless  lad,  weary 
after  a  long  day  of  wandering,  had  sunken  down 
in  the  shelter  of  the  wall  to  sleep.  He  had  re- 
moved his  outer  garment,  using  it  as  a  coverlet 
from  the  cold  night  dews,  and  had  rolled  others 
of  his  garments  into  a  pillow  for  his  head. 

Steeped  in  the  heavy  slumber  of  sorrow  and 
loneliness,  he  had  heard  nothing  of  the  disturb- 


70 


TITUS,  A  COMBADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


ance  at  first;  but  the  triumphant  shout  as  the 
mob  passed  out  of  the  gateway  aroused  him, 
and  a  chance  word  from  one  of  them,  brought 
him  to  his  feet  in  an  instant. 

"  The  Nazarene  "!  Could  it  be!  Without  stop- 
ping an  instant  to  reflect,  he  seized  his  abba  and 
flinging  it  over  his  shoulders,  ran  after  the 
retreating  throng.  In  a  moment  he  had  caught  up 
with  them,  and  the  red  glare  of  a  torch  falling 
upon  him,  revealed  him  plainly  to  the  soldiers, 
who  brought  up  the  rear.  Starting  forward,  one 
of  them  seized  him  by  the  garment,  crying  out 
as  he  did  so: 

"  Here  is  one  of  them  now!  Let  us  take  him 
also." 

But  at  that,  he  slipped  away,  leaving  his  linen 
abba  in  the  hands  of  the  soldier,  who  gaped 
stupidly  after  him,  as  he  fled  half  naked  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

here!"    commanded    Jo- 
chanan  briefly,  ringing 
the  bell  at  the  massive 
portal    loudly    and    im- 
peratively as  he  spoke. 
After  some  delay,  the 
porter  opened  the  door  cau- 
tiously—for it  was  now  late 
in    the    night— and    peered 
out. 

"  Tell  thy  master  to  come 
down    quickly!"    cried    Jo- 
chanan  impatiently,  for  he  was  weary. 

"  Ah,  'tis  thou,  worshipful  lord!"  said  the  man. 
"  I  have  orders  to  admit  thee."  And  he  threw 
the  door  wide  open. 

The  Temple  officers,  together  with  Malchus 
and  Jochanan;  the  two  soldiers,  who  were  grasp- 
ing the  Prisoner  between  them;  and  lastly,  the 
betrayer,  Judas,  filed  into  the  gateway.  The 
others,  obeying  the  command  of  Jochanau, 
waited  outside. 

They  had  scarcely  entered  the  great  courtyard 
when  Annas  came  hastily  in.  "  Thou  hast  the 
Man!"  he  exclaimed  joyfully,  as  his  eye  fell 
upon  Jesus.  '"Tiswell!" 

Then  turning  to  Judas:  "Thou  art  indeed  a 
shrewd  fellow,  and  much  to  be  commended  for 
the  discreet  way  in  which  thou  hast  managed 
this  affair.  The  thirty  pieces  of  silver  are  thine; 
take  them  and  begone.  We  have  no  further 
need  of  thy  services."  And  carelessly  tossing  a 
small  purse  toward  the  man,  he  drew  nearer 
the  Prisoner,  that  he  might  feast  his  eyes  on  the 
welcome  sight. 
Judas  stooped,  and  snatching  up  the  purse 


from  the  ground,  skulked  out  into  the  darkness. 
He  had  not  once  looked  at  Jesus,  but  he  felt 
those  eyes  upon  him.  They  were  following  him. 
The  purse  in  his  bosom  burnt  like  a  living  coal. 
"  God!"  he  shrieked  aloud.  And  again  and  again 
he  shrieked,  as  he  rushed  madly  on  in  the  black 
night.  His  punishment  had  begun. 

"  Thou  hast  bound  the  Man  most  carelessly." 
said  Annas  at  length,  drawing  back  as  he  spoke. 

He  had  intended  to  make  a  preliminary  exam- 
ination of  the  Prisoner;  but  now  he  suddenly  de- 
termined that  it  might  be  better  to  wait.  He  felt 
strangely  shaken  and  faint.  "  I  am  an  old 
man,"  he  thought,  "and  over- weary;  I  must 
spare  myself.  Besides,  there  is  to  me  something 
most  unpleasant  about  the  aspect  of  this  Man, 
though  He  is  quiet  enough." 

Then  he  continued  aloud:  "  See  thou  to  His 
bonds;  make  them  secure,  then  remove  Him  to 
the  house  of  Caiaphas.  I  myself  will  take  some 
refreshment  and  be  there  at  once." 

"  Is  it  thou,  Peter?"  said  a  voice. 

" 'Tis  no  other.  Hark!  Have  they  gone?  Where 
are  the  rest?" 

"  Nay,  I  know  not."  said  John,  sorrowfully. 
" 'Twas  even  as  He  said:  'Smite  the  shepherd, 
and  the  sheep  are  scattered  '—I  know  not  why 
I  fled;  'twas  a  cowardly  act.  I  am  going  to  seek 
Him;  it  may  be  that  they  will  let  Him  go  in  the 
morning." 

"  They  will  not  let  Him  go  in  the  morning — nor 
at  all,"  said  Peter  bitterly. 

"  But  it  may  be  that  He  will  escape  out  of  their 
hands.  He  hath  the  power,"  said  John  hope- 
fully. 

"  He  hath  had  the  power,  but  what  if  He  hatli 
it  no  longer?"  answered  Peter.  "  He  hath  said 
many  things  of  late,  hard  to  be  understood.  Said 
He  not,  even  now  as  they  bound  Him,  '  It  is  your 
hour  and  the  power  of  darkness'?" 

John  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said 
in  a  firm  voice:  "  I  shall  find  Him;  wilt  thou  go 
also?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,"  answered  Peter  gloomily. 
"  But  what  can  we  do  alone?  and  where  wilt 
thou  seek  Him?" 

"  At  the  palace  of  the  High  Priest.  I  heard 
them  give  the  order,  as  they  passed  me  in  the 
darkness." 

The  two  men  were  silent,  as  they  strode  rap- 
idly on  towards  the  city.  It  was  no  time  for 
words,  and  each  was  absorbed  in  his  own  un- 
happy thoughts. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  John  at  length.  "  We 
will  go  in,"— knocking  as  he  spoke  upon  the  por- 
tal. 

The  door  opened  almost  immediately.  Peter 
shrank  back  into  the  darkness. 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


71 


"  Go  thou  in,"  he  whispered.  "  I  will  wait 
here;  it  may  be  that  He  is  not  there." 

John  passed  in  without  replying;  and  Peter 
heard  the  portress  greet  him  by  name,  as  she 
closed  the  door, 

He  leaned  back  against  the  stone  wall,  and  the 
moments  dragged  slowly  by.  He  was  growing 
weary  and  cold.  He  half  wished  that  he  had 
gone  in  with  John.  "  I  will  go  away,"  he  thought. 
Then  words  which  he  himself  had  spoken  in  a 
happier  day,  flashed  back  into  his  mind:  "  Lord, 
to  whom  shall  we  go?  thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life."  Where,  indeed,  should  he  go!  All 
was  gone — all  lost. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  John 
came  out.  Peter  saw  his  face  by  the  light  which 
streamed  from  the  open  passage-way;  it  was 
pale  and  grave. 

"  He  is  there,"  he  said.  "  Even  now  they  are 
questioning  Him  before  the  High  Priest.  Wilt 
thou  come  in?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Peter,  "  I  will  go  in." 

John  spoke  briefly  with  the  portress,  and  she 
admitted  them  both,  looking  curiously  at  Peter 
as  he  passed.  "  Go  in  yonder,"  she  said,  point- 
ing with  her  finger. 

"Ah,  there  is  a  fire!"  said  Peter.  "  I  am  cold." 
Ard  without  waiting  for  John,  he  walked  rap- 
idly toward  the  cheerful  blaze,  around  which 
stood  a  number  of  persons. 

He  shivered  as  he  spread  his  hands  over  the 
fire,  and  glanced  furtively  about  him.  He  saw 
nothing  of  Jesus;  and  presently  feeling  more  at 
his  ease,  he  sat  down,  as  did  some  of  the  others. 

They  were  all  talking  among  themselves. 
"  Hast  thou  seen  Malchus?"  said  one. 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him." 

"  Didst  thou  know  that  one  of  the  disciples  of 
the  Nazarene  smote  off  his  ear?" 

"  No!    Is  it  so?"  broke  in  another. 

"  He  smote  it  off  with  a  single  blow  of  his 
sword,"  continued  the  speaker.  "  And  the  Naz- 
arene  touched  the  wound,  and  it  was  whole." 

"  What  meanest  thou — the  ear?" 

"  In  truth,  just  as  it  was  before  the  blow  was 
struck." 

"A  marvel  indeed!  But  not  more  wonderful 
than  many  other  tales  they  tell  of  Him." 

"  Why  do  they  seize  the  Man  and  bring  Him 
hither?  What  hath  He  done  amiss?" 

"  He  hath  spoken  against  the  priesthood;  in 
my  own  hearing  once,  He  called  them  no  better 
than  whited  sepulchers— fair  without,  but  within 
full  of  pollution." 

"  Little  wonder  then  that  they  are  His  ene- 
mies; He  should  have  been  more  discreet." 

"  Aye;  but  there  is  truth  in  His  words,"  said 
the  first  speaker,  sinking  his  voice.  "  I  know 
many  things  myself,  which,  if  told,  would  make 
a  pretty  scandal." 


"  The  truth  should  not  always  be  spoken,"  re- 
plied the  other.  "  Even  a  lie  is  useful  at  times." 
And  the  man  laughed  loudly,  with  a  knowing 
leer  at  his  companion. 

"  Did  they  seize  the  fellow  who  was  so  ready 
with  bis  sword?"  said  another. 

Peter  shrank  back  a  little  from  the  light,  and 
wished  himself  safely  outside.  Before  anyone 
had  a  chance  to  answer  the  question,  the  por- 
tress sauntered  leisurely  up  to  the  fire.  Her  eye 
at  once  fell  upon  Peter;  and  she  said  loudly: 
"  Art  not  thou  also  one  of  this  Man  Jesus'  disci- 
ples?" 

Every  one  turned  hastily.  Peter  sprang  to  his 
feet,  shaking  with  fear.  "Woman!"  he  stam- 
mered out,  "  I  know  Him  not;  I  know  not  what 
thou  meanest!" 

Then  assuming  an  air  of  indifference,  he  saun- 
tered leisurely  out  into  the  passage  leading  to 
the  street,  intending  to  slip  away  at  the  first 
good  opportunity.  As  he  sank  down  on  one  of 
the  benches  there,  to  try  and  collect  his  scattered 
thoughts,  he  heard  the  distant  crowing  of  a 
cock. 

"  'Tis  near  morning,"  he  thought  to  himself. 

Presently  he  was  startled  by  a  voice:  "  This 
fellow  was  also  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Marta 
told  me  that  he  came  in  with  the  other;  and  we 
all  know  that  he  is  a  disciple." 

Peter  sprang  up  with  a  smothered  oath. 
"What  meanest  thou,  woman!  I  do  not  kno\v 
the  Man." 

Then  he  wandered  uneasily  back  into  the 
courtyard  again,  though  he  knew  not  why  he 
lingered.  "  I  may  as  well  go  back  to  Caper- 
naum," he  said  to  himself  sullenly.  "  The  dream 
is  ended." 

As  he  leaned  against  one  of  the  pillars,  think- 
ing thus  gloomily  within  himself,  a  man  came  up 
to  him,  and  flashed  the  light  of  a  torch  which  he 
was  holding  full  in  his  face. 

"  Who  art  thou?"  he  asked  curiously;  then  get- 
ting no  answer  to  his  question,  he  bethought 
himself  that  he  had  seen  that  face  before,  and 
lately.  "  Dfd  I  not  see  thee  in  the  garden  with 
the  Nazareue?"  he  continued. 

"  Thou  didst  not!"  answered  Peter  stoutly. 

"  Surely  thou  art  one  of  them!"  insisted  the 
man,  who  was  of  kin  to  Malchus.  "  For 
thou  art  a  Galilean;  thy  speech  betrayeth  it." 

Stung  to  frenzy  by  these  words,  and  a  horrible 
inward  consciousness  of  his  perfidy,  the 
wretched  man  burst  out  into  a  torrent  of  oaths 
and  curses.  "  I  tell  thee,  I  know  not  this  Man  of 
whom  ye  speak!"  And  the  second  time,  he 
heard  the  crowing  of  the  cock. 

He  looked  wildly  about  him  that  he  might 
escape  his  tormentors;  suddenly  he  saw  that 
they  were  bringing  his  Master,  bound  and  help- 
less, into  the  courtyard— his  Master,  whom  be 


72 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


had  vowed  to  love  and  to  follow,  even  to  prison 
and  to  death!  And  Jesus  turned  and  looked 
upon  him;  that  look  sank  deep  into  the  soul  of 
Peter.  He  remembered  the  word  of  the  Lord, 
how  He  had  said  unto  him:  "Before  the  cock 
crow  twice,  thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice."  And  he 
went  out,  and  wept  bitterly. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ELL  us  now  of  thy 
disciples,  and  o  f 
thy  doctrines 
•which  Thou  hast  been 
teaching  the  people. 
Thou  mayst  as  well 
make  full  confession;  it 
will  assuredly  imperil 
thy  cause  to  keep  back 
anything  from  us  at 
this  time." 

The   Sanhedrim*   was 
already   in  solemn  ses- 
sion,    though     it     was 
scarcely   dawn.    In   the 
midst  of  the  semicircle 
sat  Caiaphas  in  the  full 
dignity    of   his    priestly 
robes.  On  his  right  was 
Annas,    on    his    left 
.Tochanan,  and  the  others  in  the  order  of  their 
official  rank.    Before  them,  His  hands  bound  be- 
hind His  back,  and  closely  guarded  on  either 
side  by  the  Temple  police,  stood  Jesus. 
"Answer  me,  fellow!"  said  Caiaphas  sternly. 
The  Prisoner  raised  His  eyes,  and  looked  full 
at  the  High  Priest. 

"  I  have  spoken  openly  to  the  world,"  He  said 
calmly.  "  I  taught  ever  in  the  synagogue,  and 
in  the  Temple,  whither  the  Jews  always  resort, 
and  in  secret  have  I  said  nothing.  Why  askest 
thou  me?  Ask  them  which  heard  me,  what  I 
have  said  unto  them;  behold,  they  know  what  I 
said." 

"  Answerest  thou  the  High  Priest  so?"  said 
one  of  the  men  who  stood  by  Him.  And  as  he 
spoke  the  words,  he  struck  Him  upon  the  mouth. 
For  a  moment  the  Prisoner  was  silent.  Then 
He  said  calmly,  as  before,  with  no  sign  of  pas- 
sion at  the  foul  insult:  "  If  I  have  spoken  evil, 
bear  witness  of  the  evil;  but  if  well,  why  sfliitest 
thou  me?" 

"  He  asketh  for  witnesses,"  said  Annas  with  a 
sneer.    "  Let  them  be  brought." 
There  was  a  little  stir,  as  one  of  the  Temple 

*The  supreme  council  of  the  Jewish  people  in  the  time 
of  Christ 


officials  entered,  followed  by  a  small,  wizened 
old  man. 

"  Dost  thou  know  the  Prisoner?"  asked  Caia- 
phas. 

"  I  do,  reverend  lord,"  answered  the  man  in  a 
high,  quavering  voice.  "  He  is  a  Galilean  car- 
penter, name  Jesus'  He  is  a  brawler,  and  is 
always  surrounded  by  crowds." 

"What  knowest  thou  of  His  teachings?"  said 
Annas  with  a  gratified  smile. 

"  He  saith  pernicious  things,  my  lord!  I,  my- 
self, heard  Him  say  to  the  multitude,  Beware  of 
the  Scribes,  and  especially  of  the  High  Priests, 
for  they  care  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  go  about 
in  long  robes,  and  have  the  best  of  everything. 
They  make  long  prayers  for  a  show,  and  at  the 
same  time  devour  the  widows  and  fatherless. 
They  are  hypocrites  and  fools,  and  shall  be 
thrust  into  hell,  with  all  that  follow  their  words. 
What  say  ye  to  that,  my  good  lords?  Those 
be  His  teachings!" 

A  fierce  murmur  ran  about  the  circle. 

"  'Tis  true!  I  heard  something  like  it  myself!" 
came  from  one  and  another. 

The  old  man  was  elated  by  the  sensation 
which  he  had  made.  Turning  his  rheumy  eyes 
upon  the  Prisoner,  he  pointed  at  Him  a  skinny, 
shaking  finger.  "  Ha,  fellow!  thou  didst  heal 
me,  three  years  ago,  of  the  palsy,  which  had 
withered  my  limbs;  and  in  so  doing  took  away 
my  living,  for  my  begging  no  longer  brought  me 
money.  They  told  me  to  work!  Yes,  work!— an 
old  man  like  me!  Now  is  not  that  a  shame,  mi- 
good  lords?  I  led  a  gay  life,  at  ease  on  my  bed; 
but  now  I  must  needs  work,  or  starve,  for  thou 
madest  me— an  old  man— as  strong  as  an  ox." 

"  Take  him  away!"  commanded  Caiaphas. 
And  he  was  led  out,  still  gesticulating,  and  talk- 
ing in  his  high,  shrill  voice. 

After  that  followed  in  rapid  succession  a  num- 
ber of  other  witnesses,  who  were  examined-  at 
some  length  by  Caiaphas,  but  without  eliciting 
anything  of  importance. 

At  last,  when  Annas  and  the  others  were  be- 
ginning to  despair  of  an  acceptable  pretext  to 
put  the  Prisoner  to  death,  two  witnesses  were 
brought  in. 

"  We  were  together  when  this  Man  spoke  in 
the  Temple,"  said  one  of  them,  "  and  we  heard 
him  say,  I  will  destroy  this  Temple  that  is  built 
with  hands,  and  within  three  days  I  will  build 
another,  made  without  hands." 

"  Nay!"  said  the  other,  "  thou  art  wrong!  He 
said,  If  ye  destroy  this  Temple,  which  ye  were 
forty  and  three  years  in  building,  I  will  restore 
it  in  three  days." 

"  Well,  is  not  that  the  same  thing?"  exclaimed 
the  first  contemptuously. 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  the  other,  with  heat. 
"  Thou  hast  the  ears  of  an  ass." 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


73 


"Is  this  the  place  for  your  disputings ?"  said 
Caiaphas,  angrily.  "  Officer,  remove  these  wit- 
nesses!" 

Then  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  Jesus,  who  still  stood  calmly  and  quietly 
in  His  place,  he  said  sternly:  "  Answerest  thou 
nothing?  What  is  it  that  these  witness  against 
thee?" 

But  He  seemed  not  to  have  heard  the  ques- 
tion. From  His  eyes  shone  a  strange  bright- 
ness, a  holy  calm.  Was  He  thinking  that  the 
hour  was  even  now  at  hand  for  the  fulfillment  of 
His  words? 

The  High  Priest  looked  at  Him  steadily,  and 
said  in  a  loud  and  solemn  voice:  "  I  adjure  thee 
by  the  living  God,  that  thou  tell  us  whether  thou 
be  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God." 

Then  the  Prisoner,  the  despised  Nazarene,  His 
hands  bound,  His  garments  torn  and  defiled 
with  violence,  the  mark  of  the  insulting  blow  still 
visible  on  His  white  face,  made  him  answer:  "  I 
am  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God.  And  I  say  unto 
you,  that  hereafter  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  Man 
sitting  on  the  right  hand  of  power,  and  coming 
in  the  clouds  of  heaven." 

Then  did  the  High  Priest  rend  his  garments, 
and  he  cried  aloud  saying:  "  He  hath  spoken 
blasphemy!  What  further  need  have  we  of  wit- 
nesses? Behold,  now  ye  have  heard  His  blas- 
phemy; what  think  ye?" 

And  they  all  answered,  as  with  one  voice: 
"  He  is  guilty!  Let  Him  die." 

Then  they  led  Him  away  to  a  room  underneath 
in  the  palace;  and  there  did  the  servants,  and 
the  hirelings  of  the  Temple,  gather  themselves 
together,  that  they  might  look  upon  Him  who 
was  condemned  to  die.  And  they  struck  Him 
with  the  palms  of  their  hands,  and  spit  upon 
Him,  crying  out:  "  This  is  He  that  shall  sit  in 
the  clouds  of  heaven !  Behold  Him!  The  Christ 
—the  Messiah— the  Worker  of  miracles!" 

Then  did  one  of  them  cast  a  garment  over  His 
head,  so  that  it  covered  His  face;  and  they 
began  to  buffet  Him,  calling  out:  "  Prophesy 
unto  us,  thou  prophet  of  Galilee!  Who  smote 
thee?" 

And  these  things  they  did  until  they  were 
weary. 


Now  when  Caiaphas  passed  out  of  the  council 
chamber,  he  went  into  an  inner  room  of  the  pal- 
ace, that  he  might  eat  and  refresh  himself  be- 
fore going  with  the  Prisoner  to  Pilate.  And 
there  Anna,  his  wife,  found  him. 

"  What  hast  thou  done  to  the  Nazarene?"  she 
asked;  and  her  face  was  white,  and  her  eyes  had 
a  strange  fire  in  them. 

"  We  have  found  Him  guilty,  even  as  I  knew. 
He  shall  shortly  be  delivered  into  the  hand  of 


the  Governor,"  said  Caiaphas.  "  I  am  weary," 
he  continued  irritably,  "  and  care  not  to  speak 
of  the  thing  with  thee.  Thou  art  a  woman, 
and  knowest  naught  of  affairs  of  state.  Leave 
me!" 

"  Nay,  I  will  not  leave  thee,  till  I  have  said 
what  I  will,"  answered  Anna.  "  The  Man  is  a 
prophet;  and  curses  will  come  upon  this  house,  if 
thou  dost  persist  in  persecuting  Him." 

"  Woman!"  cried  Caiaphas,  starting  to  his  feet, 
"  the  Man  is  a  blasphemer!  But  lately  in  my 
presence  He  solemnly  affirmed  that  He  was  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  and  would  hereafter  sit 
on  the  right  hand  of  power!" 

"  Oh,  Joseph,  my  husband!"  cried  Anna,  shud- 
dering, "  what  if  it  be  so!  Release  Him,  I  be- 
seech of  thee;  and  let  Him  go  into  His  own 
country." 

"  Thou  art  a  woman,  and  therefore  a  fool!" 
said  Caiaphas,  with  bitter  emphasis.  "  Again  I 
tell  thee  to  leave  me!" 

"  Speakest  thou  so  to  the  daughter  of  Annas!" 
cried  his  wife,  with  flashing  eyes.  "  I  will  leave 
thee!  But  thou  shalt  yet  remember  my  warning, 
and  weep  tears  of  blood  that  thou  hast  trodden 
it  under  foot."  And  she  turned,  and  swept 
stately  from  the  chambeiy 

It  was  still  early  in  the  morning  when  an  im- 
posing deputation,  with  Jesus,  bound  and 
doubly  guarded,  in  their  midst,  waited  upon 
Pilate  the  Governor. 

"  It  is  not  lawful  for  us  to  enter  into  the  pal- 
ace, lest  we  be  defiled,"  said  Caiaphas,  "  there- 
fore bid  Pilate  come  forth  unto  us." 

And  Pilate,  knowing  full  well  the  temper  of 
the  people  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  complied 
at  once.  It  was,  moreover,  in  accordance  with 
the  Roman  custom  to  hold  courts  of  justice  in 
the  open  air;  so  that  there  was  in  front  of  the 
palace,  for  this  purpose,  a  raised  tribunal, 
known  as  the  Pavement,  since  it  was  laid  with 
a  mosaic  of  many-colored  marbles.  Here  then 
Pilate  caused  them  to  place  his  curule  chair  of 
wrought  ivory— the  seat  of  state,  and  the  sign 
of  his  office — and  here  he  sat  himself  down. 

And  they  brought  Jesus,  and  set  Him  before 
the  Governor,  his  accusers  ranging  themselves 
on  either  side;  while  a  great  multitude,  which 
momently  increased  as  the  tidings  of  the  arrest 
flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  surged  uneasily  up  to 
the  very  edges  of  the  tribunal,  where  they  were 
kept  at  bay  by  a  strong  detachment  of  Roman 
troops. 

Now  Pilate  was  not  altogether  ignorant  con- 
cerning Jesus.  Always  fearful  of  insurrections 
among  the  people,  he  had,  by  means  of  spies, 
kept  close  watch  of  His  movements.  He  knew 
that  His  teachings  had  nothing  of  political 


74 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


significance  in  them,  and  that  He  had 
studiously  avoided  all  popular  excitement.  He 
was,  therefore,  disposed  to  befriend  the  Pris- 
oner, more  especially  as  he  saw  through  the  shal- 
low pretense  of  the  Jewish  dignitaries,  to  the 
real  source  of  their  hatred  of  the  Man.  So  that  it 
was  with  some  acerbity  that  he  put  his  first 
question  to  the  High  Priest,  who  headed  the 
deputation  from  the  Sanhedrim: 

"  What  accusation  bring  ye  against  this 
Man?" 

"  If  He  were  not  a  malefactor,"  answered 
Caiaphas,  haughtily,  "  we  would  not  have  deliv- 
ered Him  up  unto  thee." 

•  "  I  know  something  of  this  Jesus,  and  I  can 
understand  your  motives  in  bringing  Him  to 
me,"  said  Pilate,  with  a  covert  sneer.  "  But  it 
hardly  seemeth  a  case  for  my  interference. 
Take  ye  Him  and  judge  Him  according  to  your 
.law." 

"  The  charge  which  we  bring  against  this  Man 
is  not  so  trifling  as  thou  seemest  to  think,"  an- 
swered Caiaphas,  his  voice  shaking  with  anger. 
"  He  is  worthy  of  death  on  a  criminal  charge. 
We  have  so  found  Him.  But  it  is  not  lawful  for 
us  to  put  any  man  to  death." 

"What  then  hath  He  done?"  asked  Pilate  in 
a  tone  of  polite  endurance. 

"  He  hath  striven  to  lead  away  the  nation 
after  Him,  forbidding  to  pay  tribute  to  Caesar, 
and  declaring  that  He,  Himself,  is  Christ— the 
rightful  King,"  said  Caiaphas,  an  evil  light  in 
his  eyes. 

To  this  accusation  all  the  Jewish  authorities 
assented  with  loud  cries.  They  looked  to  see 
Pilate  roused  from  his  apathy  by  this  charge — 
the  most  damning  of  all  in  the  ears  of  a  Roman 
Governor— and  ready  to  make  quick  work 
of  the  hated  Nazarene.  But  they  were  disap- 
pointed. With  no  perceptible  change  in  his  face, 
he  arose  deliberately  from  his  seat,  and,  order- 
ing the  guard  to  bring  the  Prisoner,  strode  into 
the  Judgment  Hall. 

When  he  had  sat  himself  down,  he  said  to 
Jesus:  "  Art  thou  the  King  of  the  Jews?" 

"  Sayest  thou  this  thing  of  thyself?"  answered 
the  Prisoner,  "  or  did  others  tell  it  thee  of  me?" 

"  Am  I  a  Jew?"  said  Pilate  scornfully.  "  Thine 
own  nation  and  the  chief  priests  have  delivered 
thee  unto  me.  What  hast  thou  done?" 

And  Jesus,  looking  full  into  his  face,  made  an- 
swer: "  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world;  if  my 
kingdom  were  of  this  world,  then  would  my  ser- 
vants fight,  that  I  should  not  be  delivered  to  the 
Jews.  But  now  is  my  kingdom  not  from  hence." 

"Art  thou  a  king  then?"  said  Pilate,  staring 
at  Him  curiously. 

"  Thou  sayest  it;  I  am  a  King,"  He  answered. 
"  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and  for  this  cause 
came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should  bear  wit- 


ness unto  the  truth.  Every  one  that  is  of  the 
truth  heareth  my  voice." 

"Truth!"  said  Pilate,  with  a  light,  ironical 
laugh.  "  What  is  truth?" 

'Twas  a  mere  word,  an  empty  sound,  to  this 
Roman  voluptuary. 

Then  he  arose  from  his  seat  without  further 
question  or  comment,  and  went  out  again  to  the 
tribunal,  where  the  Jewish  dignitaries  were 
awaiting  him  in  a  state  of  anger  which  bor- 
dered on  frenzy. 

Pilate  looked  at  them  scornfully;  he  thoroughly 
despised  them,  but  it  would  not  do  for  them  to 
see  that  too  plainly.  He  sat  himself  down,  and 
waited  a  moment  for  the  fierce  murmuring  to 
cease,  then  he  declared  in  a  loud,  firm  voice: 

"  I  find  in  Him  no  fault  at  all." 

It  was  an  acquittal!  Must  all  their  carefully 
prepared  schemes  fall  to  the  ground?  Must 
they  see  the  Man  escape  out  of  their  very 
clutches?  Never!  After  the  first  wave  of  in- 
dignant rage  had  spent  itself,  one  after  another 
of  the  chief  priests  and  elders  arose  to  speak, 
each  vying  with  the  others  in  the  variety  and 
virulence  of  the  charges  which  they  heaped 
upon  the  Prisoner,  who  had  been  brought 
back  from  the  Judgment  Hall,  and  was  standing 
in  His  old  place  in  the  midst. 

"  Dost  thou  hear  how  many  things  these  wit- 
ness against  thee?"  said  Pilate,  addressing  Him. 
"  Why  dost  thou  not  defend  thyself?  Thou  hast 
my  permission." 

But  Jesus  was  silent. 

Pilate  shook  his  head.  "  He  is  a  strange  Man." 
he  thought  to  himself.  "  Now  is  the  time  and 
the  place  for  some  of  His  eloquence,  of  which  I 
have  heard  so  much.  He  is  a  fool  not  to  put 
these  fellows  down.  In  truth  I  would  assist 
Him  gladly." 

Jochanan  was  speaking,  though  Pilate  was 
giving  him  but  scant  attention.  But  now  a  sen- 
tence caught  his  ear. 

"  He  stirreth  up  the  people  throughout  all 
Jewry,  beginning  from  Galilee  to  this  place." 

"  Galilee!"  exclaimed  Pilate.  An  idea  had 
struck  him.  "  Didst  thou  say  that  He  is  a  Gali- 
lean?" 

"  He  is,  your  Excellency,"  replied  Jochanan. 

"  Very  well  then.  I  shall  send  Him  to  Herod. 
He  is  even  now  in  the  city,  and  it  were  most 
fitting  that  he  should  judge  a  man  from  his  own 
province." 

He  arose  from  his  seat,  and  gave  the  necessary 
orders,  then  retired  to  his  palace,  feeling  well 
pleased  with  himself  for  this  master-stroke  of 
diplomacy.  "  By  this  means,"  he  thought  com- 
placently, "  I  shall  rid  myself  of  all  further 
trouble  in  this  matter,  which  is  likely  to  be  un- 
pleasant enough.  Moreover,  it  will  flatter 
Herod,  and  I  shall  thus  be  able  to  appease  bis 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


75 


wrath  /or  that  little  affair  in  the  Temple."*  And 
he  commanded  his  slaves  to  bring  him  refresh- 
ments. 


"  Didst  thou  say  that  Pilate  had  sent  me  the 
Nazarene  for  judgment?"  asked  Herod,  starting 
up  from  the  purple  cushions  where  he  was  loll- 
ing, sick  with  ennui,  in  the  Asmonean  Palace. 
"Nay,  but  that  is  good  news!  I  have  always 
wished  to  see  the  fellow!  He  shall  perform  a 
miracle  for  me,  such  as  I  have  heard  of.  He 
shall  make  me  some  choice  wine  from  water- 
heal  this  sore  on  my  limb,  and— well,  I  shall 
think  of  other  things  afterward.  Bring  Him 
into  our  presence  at  once.  And,  stay! — call  the 
•court  together;  'twere  meet  to  provide  some 
amusement  to  relieve  the  deadly  tedium  of  this 
place.  So  that  is  the  Man!"— as  they  brought  in 
Jesus  and  set  Him  in  the  royal  presence,  the 
High  Priests  and  elders,  regardless  now  of  de- 
filement, crowding  in  after  Him.  "And  who 
are  these?" 

"  These  are  the  chiefs  of  the  Jewish  nation," 
one  made  answer. 

"  Let  them  stand  back  out  of  my  way!  I  wish 
to  talk  to  the  Man,  myself,"  said  Herod  impa- 
tiently. 

He  had  no  idea  of  conducting  a  trial,  but  only 
of  amusing  himself  and  the  throng  of  whisper- 
ing, tittering  courtiers  who  were  gathered  about 
him.  So  he  began  to  ask  questions  of  the  Pris- 
oner. "  What  was  His  name?"— though  he  knew 
well  enough.  "  Could  He  really  work  miracles, 
as  people  said?  and  if  He  could,  would  He  not 
work  one  now?" 

But  the  Prisoner  was  silent. 

Herod  was  at  first  rather  flattered  by  this. 
"He  feareth  us,"  he  said  patronizingly.  "  Nay, 
fellow,  I  will  do  thee  no  harm;  I  only  wish  to 
see  thee  perform.  Do  not  fear  to  speak.  Thou 
shalt  have  wine  if  thou  wilt  Give  Him  some." 

But  He  refused,  with  a  gesture,  the  proffered 
cup,  and  remained  silent  as  before. 

Then  did  His  accusers,  one  and  all,  break 
forth  into  angry  denunciations. 

"  He  saith  that  He  is  a  king,  doth  He?"  quoth 
Herod,  languidly  interrupting  them.  "  Well,  He 
doth  not  look  much  like  it.  If  He  will  not  per- 
form for  us,  we  will  even  make  some  sport  out 
of  Him.  What  is  the  royal  color  of  the  Jews? 
For  truth  to  tell,  I  have  forgotten  it." 

The  Jews  were  angrily  silent;  but  one  of  the 
courtiers  volunteered  the  information:  " 'Tis 
white,  your  Highness." 

"White,   is   it?     Then  let  a   white  robe  bo 

*During  one  of  the  numerous  petty  disturbances  in 
Jerusalem,  Pilate  had  let  loose  his  soldiers  and  they  had 
slain  a  number  of  Galilean  pilgrims,  pursuing  them  into 
the  Temple  itself,  and  cutting  them  down  at  the  very  altar. 
By  so  doing  he  had  incurred  the  enmity  of  Herod, 


brought,  and  put  it  on  Him.  'Tis  not  meet  that 
a  king  should  be  so  poorly  attired." 

Then  they  fetched  a  white  robe,  and  threw  it 
over  His  humble  Jewish  dress. 

"  Now,  good  sirs,"  said  Herod,  turning  his 
eyes  wickedly  upon  the  members  of  the  Sanhe- 
drim, "  doth  He  not  look  majestic?  A  king  in- 
deed! Let  all  do  Him  homage." 

And  the  courtiers  and  soldiers  pressed  forward 
in  mock  adulation. 

But  Herod,  watching  from  his  chair  of  state, 
saw  something  in  the  aspect  of  the  Prisoner 
which  made  him  feel  uncomfortable.  "  He  hath 
a  look  which  I  like  not,"  he  muttered,  "  nor  yet 
this  silence;  'tis  unnatural.  Suppose  He  should 
do  some  awful  thing  now;  they  say  that  He  hath 
unlimited  powers." 

With  an  imperative  gesture,  he  summoned  one 
of  his  officers.  "Take  the  fellow  away!"  he 
said.  "  Take  Him  back  to  Pilate." 

"  Shall  we  take  off  the  robe,  your  Highness?" 
asked  the  man. 

"No,  no!"  answered  Herod,  hastily.  "Take 
Him  just  as  He  is— and  quickly.  Clear  the 
room  of  all  these," — indicating  the  Jews  with  a 
sweeping  gesture. 

So  it  happened  that  Pilate  was  once  again 
called  forth  into  the  judgment  seat,  and  con- 
fronted with  Jesus. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

T  was  with  a  frowning  brow 
that  the  Governor  again 
seated  himself  in  his  ivory 
chair  of  state.  "  Ye  have 
brought  this  Man  unto  me," 
he  said,  "  as  one  that  per- 
verteth  the  people;  and,  be- 
hold, I,  having  examined 
Him  before  you,  have  found 
no  fault  In  Him  touching  those  things  whereof 
ye  accuse  Him.  No,  nor  yet  Herod;  for  I  sent 
you  to  him  with  the  Prisoner;  and,  lo!  he  hath 
sent  Him  back  to  me  uncondemned.  I  will 
therefore  scourge  Him  and  let  Him  go." 

He  said  this,  hoping  that  the  scourging,  a  ter- 
rible punishment  in  itself,  might  appease  the 
wrath  of  the  Jews. 

The  multitude,  which  now  numbered  thous- 
ands—and, as  Pilate  saw,  of  the  lowest  and 
most  debased  portion  of  the  population— gave  a 
savage,  inarticulate  cry,  like  that  'of  a  wild 
beast. 

"What  do  they  say?"  asked  Pilate,  speaking 
to  the  Roman  official  who  stood  beside  him. 

"  Release!  Release  unto  us  a  prisoner!"  re- 
plied the  man. 


76 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


"  Tney  are  right!"  said  Pilate,  bethinking  him- 
self joyfully  of  the  time-honored  custom  of  re- 
leasing a  prisoner  to  the  people  at  Feast  time. 
And  he  arose  and  cried  aloud:  "  Will  ye  that  I 
release  unto  you  the  King  of  the  Jews?" 

Now  it  happened  that  the  chief  priests  knew 
of  the  condemnation  of  Barabbas,  and  how  he 
lay  bound  in  the  dungeons  of  Antonia,  sentenced 
to  suffer  crucifixion  on  that  very  day,  which  was 
the  fifteenth  of  Nisan.  • 

So  Jochanan,  and  other  wise  ones  of  their 
number,  mixing  with  the  multitude,  craftily 
brought  to  their  remembrance  how  Barabbas 
was  about  to  suffer  for  his  loyalty  to  the  nation. 
And  when  the  multitude  heard  their  words,  they 
began,  with  one  accord,  to  yell:  "  Barabbas! 
Barabbas!"  till  the  whole  city  was  aroused,  and 
thousands  more  came  running  to  the  palace  to 
see  what  had  happened.  And  all  joined  in  the 
cry  for  Barabbas. 

Then  Pilate  said  unto  them:  "  What  shall  I  do 
then  with  Jesus,  who  is  called  Christ?" 

The  chief  priests  answered:  "  Let  Him  be 
crucified!" 

And  the  mob,  mad  with  excitement,  and  thirst- 
ing for  blood,  echoed  with  a  cry  which  has  rung 
adown  the  ages:  "Crucify  Him!  Crucify  Him! 
Away  with  Him!  Crucify  Him!" 

At  this  moment  one  of  the  officials  handed  to 
Pilate  an  ivory  tablet  with  something  written 
thereon.  And  he  read  this  warning  message 
from  his  wife: 

"  Have  thou  nothing  to  do  with  that  just  Man ;  for  I 
have  suffered  many  things  this  day  in  a  dream  be- 
cause of  Him.  CLAUDIA." 

Then,  more  anxious  than  ever  to  save  Him,  he 
said  unto  them  for  the  third  time:  "  Why,  what 
evil  hath  He  done?  I  have  found  no  cause  of 
death  in  Him;  I  will  therefore  chastise  Him,  and 
let  Him  go." 

But  the  chief  priests  saw  that  he  feared  the 
people;  and  again  they  raised  the  cry:  "  Crucify 
Him!  Crucify  Him!"  And  again  the  multitude 
echoed  the  words  with  their  hideous  yells. 

Pilate  looked  out  from  his  throne  over  that 
threatening  mob,  and  his  heart  was  as  wax 
within  him.  "  I  cannot  save  the  Man!"  he  mut- 
tered. "  'Tis  too  late.  And  what  doth  it  mat- 
ter, after  all — one  Jew  less  in  Jerusalem." 

"  Bring  me  water  in  a  basin!"  he  commanded. 

And  when  it  was  brought,  he  stood  up  and 
washed  his  hands  in  the  sight  of  them  all,  say- 
ing solemnly,  "  I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of 
this  just  person.  See  ye  to  it." 

And  all  the  people  answered  him  with  the 
awful  words:  "  His  blood  be  upon  us,  and  upon 
our  children!" 

Then  he  released  unto  them  Barabbas,  and 
commanded  that  Jesus  should  be  scourged  and 
afterward  crucified. 


Barabbas  came  forth  out  of  the  prison;  and 
when  he  heard  what  had  been  done,  he  said 
scornfully  to  his  fellows:  "  Said  I  not  that  the 
man  was  a  coward!" 

Now  Pilate,  the  trial  being  ended,  went  into 
his  palace  with  a  heavy  heart.  And  as  he  was 
seeking  to  withdraw  himself  into  an  inner  room, 
he  came  upon  his  wife,  Claudia. 

"  Didst  thou  receive  the  warning  I  sent  thee?" 
she  asked. 

"  I  received  it;  but  it  was  too  late,"  said  Pilate, 
faltering. 

"  Too  late!"  exclaimed  Claudia.  "  What  mean- 
est thou?  Is  the  Man  dead?" 

"  No.  He  still  liveth,  but— well— I— I  have  sen- 
tenced Him  to  the  cross.  They  are  even  now 
scourging  Him.  I  could  not  help  it!  Thou 
shouldst  have  seen  the  mob— it  was  frightful! 
And  those  cries— they  ring  in  my  ears  still!" 
And  the  wretched  man  pressed  his  hands  to  his 
head  wildly. 

Claudia  looked  at  him  with  wide,  glassy  eyes. 
Her  face  was  ghastly.  "  Thou  hast  condemned 
Him  ?"  she  whispered  hoarsely,  "  and  to  the 
cross!  Then  may  the  gods  help  us!  We  are  un- 
done!" And  she  fled  away  wildly,  leaving  Pilate 
alone. 

Then  the  soldiers  took  Jesus,  and  when  they 
had  stripped  Him  of  His  upper  garments,  they 
bound  Him  to  a  low  pillar,  so  that  His  back 
was  bowed.  And  they  took  scourges,  made  of 
heavy  thongs  of  leather,  weighted  at  the  ends 
with  jagged  pieces  of  iron,  and  they  beat  Him 
upon  His  naked  back  until  they  were  weary. 
Then  they  lifted  Him  up,  and  putting  on  Him 
again  the  white  robe  with  which  Herod  had 
mocked  Him,  they  dragged  Him  into  the  Judg- 
ment Hall.  And  the  whole  band  came  together 
to  look  at  Him  there. 

"Let  us  worship  Him!"  cried  one,  "even  as 
did  Herod." 

The  saying  pleased  them.  Stripping  off  the 
white  robe  which  Herod  had  put  on  Him— white 
no  longer,  for  it  was  crimsoned  with  His  blood — 
they  clothed  Him  with  an  old  scarlet  mantle,* 
which  belonged  to  one  of  them.  Then  one  run- 
ning out,  brought  in  branches  of  the  thorn  tree, 
and  they  made  of  the  branches  a  crown,  and 
drove  it  down  about  His  temples;  and  they  put 
a  reed  in  His  hand  for  a  sceptre.  Then  they 
laughed  aloud,  as  they  looked  upon  Him,  till  the 
hall  echoed  with  the  horrid  sound;  and  bowing 
the  knee,  they  cried,  "  Hail!  King  of  the  Jews!" 
Snatching  the  sceptre  from  His  pinioned  hands, 
they  smote  Him  on  the  head  with  it.  And  they 
spit  in  His  face. 


*Scarlet  or  purple;  the  two  colors  are  often  confounded. 
The  garment  referred  to  was  probably  the  Suguru,  or  short 
woolen  military  cloak. 

v 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


77 


In  the  midst  of  this  their  brutal  sport,  Pilate 
came  upon  them. 

"Bring  Him  forth!"  he  commanded  savagely. 
And  he  went  out  again  to  the  judgment  seat, 
being  minded  yet  to  save  the  Man,  for  the  sake 
of  his  wife  Claudia,  and  because  he,  himself, 
feared— he  knew  not  what. 

He  stood  up  before  the  multitude,  which  had 
grown  so  great  that  he  could  see  nothing  but 
one  mighty  sea  of  faces,  upturned  to  look  upon 
him  as  he  stood  above  them  there.  And  he 
pointed  to  Jesus  standing  beside  him,  wearing 
.the  scarlet  cloak  and  the  crown  of  thorns,  His 
face  stained  with  blood  and  befouled  with  in- 
sult, His  eyes  dim  with  agony,  yet  withal  trans- 
figured into  something  so  divine  that  Pilate  cried 
with  genuine  pity  and  reverence  in  his  tones, 
"  Behold  the  Man!" 

It  was  as  if  he  wo\ild  have  said:  See  Him  so 
agonized  and  yet  so  innocent!  Hath  He  not 
suffered  enough?  Will  ye  not  pity  Him  and  save 
Him? 

But  the  chief  priests  and  officers  of  the  Tem- 
ple were  mad  for  His  blood;  they  had  waited 
for  over  three  hours  in  the  blazing  sun,  for  Him 
to  be  brought  forth  unto  them.  Pilate's  appeal, 
and  the  piteous  look  of  the  Prisoner,  only  added 
fresh  fuel  to  the  flame  which  was  devouring 
them. 

"  Crucify  Him!"  they  .yelled  hoarsely.  And 
again  and  again,  "Crucify  Him!" 

Then  said  Pilate  in  a  sudden  rage:  "  Take  ye 
Him  and  crucify  Him;  for  I  find  no  fault  in 
Him." 

But  the  Jews,  will'ng  to  justify  themselves  in 
the  sight  of  the  multitude,  answered  him:  "  We 
have  a  law,  and  by  our  law  He  ought  to  die; 
because  He  made  Himself  the  Son  of  God." 

When  Pilate  heard  that  saying  he  feared  ex- 
ceedingly; and  again  he  remembered  the  ghastly 
face  of  Claudia,  as  she  said:  "  We  are  undone." 
He  turned  and  strode  once  more  into  the  Judg- 
ment Hall,  commanding  the  guard  to  bring  the 
Prisoner. 

"  Whence  art  thou?"  he  demanded  of  Jesus. 

But  the  Prisoner  made  him  no  answer.  What 
use  to  answer  this  man,  who  was  too  cowardly 
a  creature  to  free  Him  whom  he  had  thrice 
acquitted! 

"  Speakest  thou  not  unto  me?"  said  Pilate 
fiercely,  glad  of  an  excuse  for  anger.  "  Knowest 
thou  not  that  I  have  power  to  crucify  thee,  and 
have  power  to  release  thee?" 

And  Jesus,  seeing  the  dark  tumult  in  his 
breast,  pitied  him.  "  Thou  couldst  have  no  power 
at  all  against  me,"  He  said,  breaking  the  silence 
of  many  bitter  hours.  "  Therefore  he  that  de- 
livered me  to  thee,  hath  the  greater  sin." 

And  Pilate  trembled  before  Him. 

Then  went  he  forth,  yet  again,  to  the  people, 


and  spake  to  them  as  best  he  knew  how,  for  the 
release  of  the  Man  whom  he  had  thrice  ac- 
quitted, and  twice  condemned. 

And  they  despised  him  and  tis  words,  and 
cried  out,  saying:  "If  thou  let  this  Man  go, 
thou  art  not  Caesar's  friend." 

When  Pilate  heard  the  name  Caesar,  his  soul 
was  shaken  within  him,  for  he  remembered 
many  things  with  fear.  And  he  commanded 
them  to  bring  Jesus  forth  before  the  judgment 
seat;  and  he  said  unto  them,  "  Behold  your 
King!" 

But  they  cried  out,  "Away  with  Him!  Away 
with  Him!  Crucify  Him!" 

"What!"  cried  Pilate.  "Shall  I  crucify  your 
king?" 

The  chief  priests  answered,  "  We  have  no 
king  but  Csesar!" 

And  with  that  word  of  power,  they  beat  down 
the  last  feeble  barrier  of  his  will. 

"  Take  Him!"  he  cried,  hoarsely.  "  Take  Him, 
and  crucify  Him.  His  blood  be  upon  you!" 

And  they  took  Jesus  and  led  Him  away. 

When  the  multitude  saw  that  He  was  deliv- 
ered up  to  be  crucified,  they  gave  a  mighty  and 
fierce  cry.  And  the  sound  of  it  rang  throughout 
the  city,  and  the  women  and  children  shook  with 
fear  when  they  heard  it;  it  echoed  in  dismal 
reverberations  in  the  courts  of  the  shining  Tem- 
ple, and  rolled  away— away— upward— upward, 
till  its  dying  sound  reached  even  the  throne  of 
God,  and  the  angels  which  stand  ever  before 
the  throne  hid  their  faces. 

Now  a  man  who  wore  the  semblance  of  a  wild 
beast  had  been  hanging  about  the  outskirts  of 
the  multitude  for  hours.  Ever  and  anon  he  tore 
his  hair,  and  his  garments— which  hung  in 
shreds  about  him;  and  he  raved,  and  cursed, 
and  cut  himself  with  stones.  But  the  people 
heeded  him  not.  "  He  hath  a  devil,"  they  said. 
"  He  seeketh  the  Nazarene,  mayhap;  but  he 
must  needs  help  himself  now." 

And  when  the  man  heard  that  word,  he  shook 
the  matted  hair  from  out  his  eyes.  "  What  will 
they  do  with  Him?"  he  asked. 

And  they  answered,  "  They  are  taking  Him 
even  now  to  be  crucified." 

At  that,  the  man  gave  a  great  cry,  and  thrust- 
ing his  fingers  into  his  ears,  ran  swiftly  away. 
And  when  he  came  to  the  Temple  he  went  in. 
still  running,  nor  could  anyone  stop  him;  so  that 
he  came  even  to  the  place  where  were  certain 
of  the  chief  priests  and  elders,  who  had  gathered 
together  that  they  might  rejoice  over  the  murder 
which  they  had  accomplished. 

And  the  man  cast  down  before  them  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  and  shrieked  out  in  a  woeful 
voice:  "  I  have  sinned,  in  that  I  have  betrayed 
the  innocent  blood!" 

And  the  chief  priests  and  elders  feared,  when 


78 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


they  looked  upon  thje  man.  But  Annas  an- 
swered: "What  is  that  to  us?  See  thou  to 
that!" 

And  he  fled  away  from  the  Temple,  and  going 
out  of  the  city  to  the  garden  which  is  called 
Gethsemane,  he  hung  himself  there;  that  he 
might  die  in  the  place  where  he  had  betrayed 
the  Son  of  God  with  a  kiss. 

"  And  the  chief  priests  took  the  silver  pieces 
and  said,  It  is  not  lawful  to  put  them  into  the 
treasury,  because  it  is  the  price  of  blood.  And 
they  took  counsel,  and  bought  with  them  the 
potter's  field,  to  bury  strangers  in.  Wherefore 
that  field  was  called  The  field  of  blood,  unto 
this  day." 


CHAPTEH  XXIX. 

EAVY-HEAIITED, 
Titus  awoke  on 
the  morning  of  the 
fifteenth  of  Nisan. 
This  was  the  day! 
He  stared  with 
wide,  unseeing 
eyes  at  the  wall 
of  his  dungeon, 
and  muttered 
again  and  again, 
"This  is  the  day! 
This  is  the  day! 
This  is  the  day!" 

Presently  h  e 
heard  a  sound. 
Were  they  corning 
even  now  to  take 
him!  He  started  to 
his  feet,  and  crouched  shuddering  in  the  furthest 
corner  of  his  dungeon.  No,  'twas  only  the  bread 
and  water,  thrust  in  by  the  rough  hand  of  his 
jailer.  He  drank  greedily  of  the  water;  but  the 
sight  of  the  food  sickened  him. 

Then  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  agony  of  listen- 
ing. The  untended  wound  in  his  head  had  fes- 
tered, and  his  veins  ran  hot  with  fever.  He  half 
forgot  for  what  he  was  listening,  as  the  hours 
dragged  slowly  on;  and  when,  at  last,  the  great 
bolts  turned  rustily  in  their  sockets,  and  the 
door  was  thrown  open,  he  started  up  with  crim- 
son cheeks  and  a  light,  blood-curdling  laugh. 
"  Thou  hast  come  at  last!"  he  said  airily. 
The  centurion  stared  at  him.  "  Bring  him  out 
quickly!"  he  commanded,  "and  bind  upon  him 
the  cross." 

"  What!"  said  one  of  the  soldiers.    "  Shall  we 
not  first  scourge  him?" 
"  Nay,"   said   his   superior.      "  'Twas   not   so 

ordered.    Besides,  we  must  hasten;  they  must 

- ....      .  . .  .    •  •  ^    . , .  . 


all  be  dead  by  the  going  down  of  the  sun;  and 
it  is  already  near  the  sixth  hour." 

Quickly  they  bound  upon  his  back  the  trans- 
verse pieces  of  the  cross,*  and  hurried  him  out 
from  the  prison  gate.  As  the  fresh  air  smote 
him,  his  dazed  senses  cleared  a  little.  He  saw 
that  Dumachus,  also  bearing  the  ominous  pieces 
of  wood,  and  similarly  guarded  by  four  soldiers, 
was  waiting  in  the  courtyard.  He  had  been 
scourged,  as  his  blood-stained  garments  wit- 
nessed, and  was  blubbering  and  blaspheming 
under  his  breath. 

"  Ha,  Jew!"  he  yelled  hoarsely,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  Titus.  "Now,  indeed,  lookest  thou  the' 
son  of  the  High  Priest!" 

But  the  centurion  smote  him  on  the  mouth,  and 
bade  him  be  silent. 

Under  the  escort  of  a  strong  detachment  of 
legionaries,  the  two  cross-bearers  were  marched 
rapidly  forward.  Not  far  from  the  prison,  they 
came  to  a  halt. 

"Why  did  they  not  bring  him  to  Antonia?" 
said  one  of  the  soldiers  in  a  low  voice. 

"  He  hath  but  just  been  condemned;  there  was 
no  time.  They  will  join  us  here,"  said  another. 
"  Hark!  They  are  coming  now.  Dost  hear  the 
roaring  of  the  mob?" 

Then  came  the  slow,  measured  tramping  of 
soldiers;  a  few  sharp,  quick  orders;  and  again 
they  moved  forward. 

They  had  reached  the  city  gate,  and  were 
about  to  pass  through,  when  again  came  the 
order  to  halt. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  one  of  the  soldiers  who 
guarded  Titus. 

"  The  fellow  hath  fallen  under  his  cross,"  an- 
swered a  man  who  was  perched  aloft.  "  They 
have  caught  a  stout  countryman,  who  but  just 
came  in,  and  have  bound  it  upon  him.  Thou 
shouldst  see  his  face!"  And  he  burst  into  a 
great  laugh. 

Outside  the  gate  a  seething  mass  of  humanity! 
On  either  side  of  the  road  the  people  stood 
packed  in  serried  ranks;  they  clustered  In  dense 
masses  on  roofs,  and  walls,  and  trees.  Titus 
looked,  and  his  brain  reeled.  Had  all  these 
come  out  to  see  the  torture  of  three  wretched 
thieves? — for  so  read  his  accusation  which  was 
bound  in  staring  letters  on  his  breast. 

Amid  the  savage,  unceasing  roar  of  the  mul- 
titude he  could  hear  the  shrill  wailing  of  women. 
And  now  another  sound  caught  his  ear;  'twas  a 
voice  which  he  had  thought  never  to  hear  again: 
"  Father!  Titus!  Jesus!"  shrieked  the  voice. 
He  caug'it  a  glimpse  of  a  white  face  as  it  fell 
back  into  the  crowd. 

For  the  first  time  he  struggled  fiercely  with 
his  bonds.  "  Let  me  go!"  he  screamed. 


"The  upright  beam  being  already  at  the  place  of  execu- 
tion. 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


79 


"  Hold  thy  peace,  thief!"  said  the  centurion 
savagely.  "  Save  thy  shrieks  for  thy  cross!1' 
And  he  smote  him  on  the  head  with  the  flat  of 
his  sword. 

After  weeks  of  fruitless  search  and  forlorn 
wandering,  Stephen  had  reached  Jerusalem.  He 
had  determined  to  go  to  Caiaphas  and  give  into 
his  hand  the  embroidered  tunic,  and  tell  him  all 
that  he  knew  of  Titus.  Ragged,  hungry  and 
footsore,  he  had  knocked  at  the  great  gate  of  the 
palace,  and  been  refused  entrance  by  the  por- 
tress. 

"  See  the  High  Priest,  indeed!"  she  had  said 
scornfully.  "  Go  thy  way,  beggar !" 

"  But  indeed,"  persisted  Stephen,  "  I  must  see 
him.  'Tis  a  matter  of  the  sorest  need." 

"  Well,  thou  shalt  not  come  in,  for  all  of  that. 
Thy  urgent  business  can  wait!"  And  with  a  loud 
laugh  of  derision  she  had  slammed  the  heavy 
door  in  his  face. 

Then  he  had  wandered  away  to  the  Temple, 
with  the  vague  hope  of  seeing  the  man  he 
sought. 

"  Where  is  the  High  Priest?"  he  inquired  inno- 
cently of  one  of  the  Temple  police. 

"  The  High  Priest,  beggar!  What  dost  thou 
want  of  him?"  said  the  man. 

"I  must  speak  with  him;  and  I  cannot  gaiu 
admittance  at  his  house." 

"  Canst  thou  not!"  said  the  man  derisively. 
"  'Tis  a  wonder!  They  should  have  urged  thee 
to  come  in,  and  given  thee  the  best  room!" 

Stephen  looked  steadily  at  the  man,  while  a 
slight  flush  rose  to  his  cheek.  "  I  am  not  a  beg- 
gar," he  said.  "  Though  'tis  like  enough  that  I 
look  one.  But  I  must  see  the  High  Priest;  I 
vould  tell  him  of  his  son." 

"  His  son!"  echoed  the  man.  "  Thou  art  mad! 
He  hath  no  son.  Go  thy  way.  Thou  canst  not 
see  the  High  Priest.  'Tis  a  notable  day  with 
Caiaphas,  and  indeed  with  all  of  us,  for  to-night 
we  eat  the  Passover;  and  to-day  we  shall  see  a 
great  sight— the  Nazarene  is  to  be  crucified." 

"  The  Nazarene!"  said  Stephen  wildly.  "  Cru- 
cified! Oh,  it  cannot — cannot  be!" 

"  But  it  can  be,  my  impudent  young  beggar! 
All  the  city  will  be  there  to  see  it.  I  myself — " 

But  Stephen  had  gone.  He  was  running 
wildly,  though  he  knew  not  why,  nor  whither. 
Presently  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a 
great  throng,  all  hurrying  like  himself. 

"  Let  us  stop  here!"  shouted  a  man  to  his  fel- 
lows. "  We  shall  see  it  all  finely  here!" 

Stephen  looked  at  him  beseechingly.  "Is  it 
true?"  he  gasped. 

But  the  man  did  not  answer.  "  I  shall  climb 
up  here!"  he  shouted  again,  scrambling,  as  he 
spoke,  into  a  stunted  tree,  which  grew  by  the 
roadside. 


The  crowd  still  poured  out  from  the  city  gate 
in  countless  thousands,  and  Stephen,  carried 
along  by  its  resistless  tide,  found  himself  near 
the  verge  of  a  little  hillock  not  far  from  the 
highway.  Here  the  people  were  kept  back  by  a 
triple  cordon  of  soldiers. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Stephen  again,  this  time  to  a 
sad-faced  woman  who  stood  next  him  in  the 
press,  "  what  doth  this  mean?  Is  it  true  that—" 
and  his  voice  broke  in  a  sob—"  that  they  are 
going  to  put  the  Nazarene  to  death?" 

"  Alas,  yes!"  she  answered,  "  'tis  true.  Ah,  tho 
pity  of  it!— and  the  shame!  'Tis  the  High  Priests; 
they  have  always  hated  Him.  'Twas  only  last 
night  that  they  took  Him  in  the  garden  of  Geth- 
semane.  Early  this  morning  they  delivered  Him 
to  Pilate,  and  now—"  And  the  woman  hid  her 
face  in  her  long  veil. 

"  In  Gethsemane?"  said  Stephen.  "Is  it  an 
olive  orchard  yonder?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  woman,  her  throat  quiv- 
ering. "  He  went  there  often— for  quiet  and 
prayer."  And  again  she  stopped,  struggling 
with  her  tears. 

"  I  was  there,"  said  Stephen.  "  I  heard  the 
noise— but  I  knew  not  what  it  meant.  I  had 
been  sleeping." 

"  Hark!"  said  the  woman.  "  They  are  coming." 

Above  the  roar  of  the  multitude  arose  the 
sound  of  the  regular  tread  of  soldiers,  and  pres- 
ently the  vanguard  of  the  procession,  a  detach- 
ment of  Roman  troops,  came  into  view.  They 
were  marching  stolidly  along,  their  shields  glir- 
tering  in  the  bright  sunshine.  Then  the  three 
cross-bearers,  guarded  each  by  a  quaternion  of 
soldiers,  and  bearing  each  upon  his  breast  a 
whitened  board  with  the  accusation  for  which 
he  was  to  suffer,  blazoned  thereon  in  large  black 
letters.  That  of  the  Nazarene  bore  the  strange 
words:  "Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  King  of  the 
Jews." 

Stephen  gave  one  look,  and  there  burst  from 
his  lips  that  frenzied  cry:  "Father!  Titus! 
Jesus!"  Then  he  sank  back  like  one  dead. 

The  woman  ceased  her  low  wailing,  and  knelt 
at  his  side.  "  Stand  back  a  little,  good  people!" 
she  cried.  "  The  lad  hath  fainted;  he  must  have 
air." 

"  He  is  nothing  but  a  beggar!"  said  a  man  con- 
temptuously, giving  him  a  push  with  his  foot 
as  he  spoke.  "  Let  him  be;  thou  wilt  lose  it  all. 
They  are  going  to  take  the  Nazarene  first." 

The  woman  hastily  sprinkled  some  water  from 
a  small  gurglet,  which  she  carried  at  her  girdlo, 
on  the  face  of  the  unconscious  boy.  Then,  as  if 
impelled  by  a  resistless  force,  she  stood  up  and 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  awful  scene  before  her. 

The  soldiers  were  working  swiftly.  The  Naz- 
arene, already  stripped  of  His  garments,  was 
laid  upon  the  cross,  which  was  lying  on  the 


80 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


ground.  Now  a  few  dull,  heavy  blows  of  the 
mallet,  and  the  great  nails  were  driven  through 
the  palms  of  His  outstretched  hands;  then 
through  His  feet,  slightly  drawn  up  and  laid  the 
one  over  the  other. 

And  now  they  were  lifting  the  cross,  with  its 
burden  of  agony;  dragging  it  roughly  along,  a 
dozen  strong  arms  raised  it  up  and  with  a  shout 
dropped  it  into  the  hole  previously  dug  to  receive 
it. 

The  body  of  Jesus  settled  forward  with  a  sick- 
ening shock.  What  was  it  that  He  was  saying?— 


He  seemed  about  to  fall  back  again,  but  sud- 
denly he  leaped  up,  a  fierce  light  burning  in  his 
eyes.  "  Where  is  the  High  Priest?"  he  said 
wildly.  "The  young  man  is  his  son;  he  might 
yet  be  saved!" 

"Hush!"  said  the  woman  pitifully.  "Thy 
trouble  hath  crazed  thee.  Nothing  could  save 
him  now." 

The  lad  sank  back  again  weakly.  He  had 
eaten  nothing  for  hours;  his  brain  reeled,  and 
things  looked  dim  and  strange. 

"  I  must  be  mad!"  he  said  aloud.    Then  he  was 


Golgotha. 


"  Father,  forgive  them;  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do." 

Now  followed  the  thieves;  they  had  drunken 
deeply  of  the  drugged  wine,  which  the  Nazarene 
had  refused.  The  older  man  fought  savagely 
with  the  soldiers,  when  his  turn  came,  but  was 
quickly  overpowered  and  thrown  down,  and 
amid  a  torrent  of  horrid  oaths  and  screams,  his 
cross  was  raised  to  a  place  on  the  left  of  the 
Nazarene. 

Then  the  young  man— "  A  mere  lad!"  said  the 
woman,  her  lips  livid  with  horror.  He  was 
silent,  even  as  the  Nazarene,  save  for  his  piteous 
groans. 

But  now  the  form  at  her  feet  stirred.  She 
looked  down,  then  stooped,  and  raising  his  head, 
gave  him  to  drink  from  her  water-bottle. 

"  God!"  he  gasped  as  he  beheld  the  three 
crosses.  "  My  Jesus J  My  brother!  My  father!" 


silent.  He  heard  vaguely  the  voices  of  the  mob, 
as  they  reviled  the  Man  on  the  middle  cross: 
"  Thou  that  destroyest  the  Temple,  and  build- 
est  it  in  three  days,  save  thyself!  If  thou  be  the 
Son  of  God,  come  down  from  the  cross!" 

And  he  saw  a  group  of  men,  gorgeously  robed, 
who  stood  near  the  cross,  stretching  out  their 
arms  with  mocking  gestures.  "  He  saved  others; 
Himself  He  cannot  save.  If  He  be  the  king  of 
Israel,  let  Him  now  come  down  from  the  cross, 
and  we  will  believe  Him!  He  trusted  in  God; 
let  Him  deliver  Him  now,  if  He  will  have  Him; 
for  He  said,  I  am  the  Son  of  God." 

"  Those  be  the  chief  priests,"  said  the  woman 
to  Stephen. 

But  he  made  no  answer. 

The  sun  was  nearly  overhead  now,  and  beat- 
ing down  with  noontide  fierceness;  but  grad- 
ually the  brilliant  light  paled;  there  was  a 


TITUS,  A  COMBADE  OP  THE  CROSS. 


81 


strange  hush  in  the  air.  The  people,  frantic 
with  excitement,  did  not  note  the  change  at  first; 
then  one  and  another  began  to  look  uneasily  up- 
ward. There  was  no  cloud,  no  sign  of  storm,  but 
the  light  was  momently  fading.  Now  it  was  a 
ghastly  yellow;  and  now  it  gloomed  into  a  lurid 
twilight. 

The  people  looked  at  one  another  with  white 
faces.  "What  is  it?"  they  whispered.  Then 
they  gazed  fearfully  at  the  Man  on  the  middle 
cross.  He  was  hanging  motionless,  His  head 
sunken  upon  His  breast. 

The  man  on  the  cross  at  the  left  was  groaning 
and  blaspheming  horribly;  in  the  frightened 
hush  his  words  could  be  distinctly  heard.  He 
was  cursing  the  Man  at  his  side.  "  If  thou  be 
the  Christ!"  he  shrieked,  with  an  awful  impreca- 
tion, "save  thyself  and  us!" 

He  who  hung  on  the  other  side  of  the  Nazarene 
had  been  silent  till  now,  save  for  his  piteous 
sighing;  but  now  he  spoke — the  fierce  agony  had 
cleared  his  brain  at  last. 

"  Wilt  thou  not  hold  thy  peace!"  he  cried  In 
his  clear  young  voice;  and  Stephen  listened 
breathlessly.  "  Dost  thou  not  fear  God,  seeing 
thou  art  in  the  same  condemnation?  And  we 
indeed  justly;  for  we  receive  the  due  reward 
of  our  deeds.  But  He  is  innocent." 

Then  he  turned  his  dying  eyes  on  Jesus,  and 
said  tremulously,  beseechingly:  "  Lord,  remem- 
ber me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom." 

And  into  the  face  of  Jesus,  blood-stained,  be- 
fouled, and  ghastly  with  the  pallor  of  approach- 
ing death,  there  flashed  a  look  of  joy  so  divine 
that  Stephen's  heart  leapt  when  he  beheld  it. 

"  Verily  I  say  unto  thee,"— and  His  voice  was 
clear,  beautiful  and  far-reaching  as  of  old—"  to- 
day shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise." 

Titus  smiled  radiantly.  What  cared  he  now 
for  the  pain,  the  shame,  the  dying!  "  To-day— 
with  Him— in  Paradise!" 

Stephen  started  forward  with  a  great  cry  of 
longing.  "  Oh,  take  me  too!" 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  that  not  far  from 
him  stood  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus,  and  with 
her  two  other  women,  and  John  the  beloved 
disciple.  He  could  see  them  all  quite  plainly  in 
the  lurid  half-darkness,  for  the  crowd,  in  fear, 
had  drawn  away  from  the  neighborhood  of  the 
crosses,  leaving  them  almost  alone  save  for  the 
Roman  guard.  He  crept  timidly  nearer,  till  he 
could  touch  the  hem  of  Mary's  robe;  but  he  did 
not  speak  to  her.  He  dared  not. 

"  My  son!  My  son!"  she  wailed;  and  again  the 
dim  eyes  of  the  dying  man  brightened. 

He  looked  at  His  mother  with  an  infinite  ten- 
derness. "AVoman!"  He  said  faintly,  "behold 
thy  son!"  Then  turning  His  eyes  upon  John, 
who  was  supporting  her  half-swooning  form,  He 
said,  "  Behold  thy  mother!" 


The  hours  crept  heavily  onward.  The  dark- 
ness was  that  of  night  now — a  starless  night. 
The  thousands  who  had  come  forth  in  holiday 
attire,  full  of  insolent  triumph,  to  witness  the 
agony  of  the  crucifixion,  were  waiting,  full  of 
terror,  for  the  end.  They  dared  not  move  in 
that  ghastly  darkness.  Save  for  the  groans  of 
the  dying  man,  the  silence  was  almost  un- 
broken. 

About  the  ninth  hour,  Jesus  cried  in  a  voice  of 
agony:  "  Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabachthani!" 

It  was  the  simple  Galilean  speech  of  His  child- 
hood, and  signified  those  saddest  of  all  words: 
"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?" 

But  someone  who  was  watching,  hearing  only 
the  first  words,  and  understanding  them  not, 
said:  "This  Man  calleth  for  Elias." 

Then  He  spoke  again,  this  time  faintly:  "  I 
thirst." 

Now  there  was,  standing  near,  a  vessel  full 
of  the  common  sour  wine  which  the  soldiers  had 
brought  to  refresh  themselves  with;  and  one  of 
them,  smitten  with  remorse,  hastened  to  fill  a 
sponge  with  wine,  and  putting  it  upon  the  stem 
of  a  hyssop  plant  which  grew  near,  lifted  it  to 
the  parched  lips  of  the  Sufferer. 

"  Let  be!"  shouted  another.  "  Let  us  see 
whether  Elias  will  come  to  save  Him." 

Another  silence,  broken  only  by  the  gasping 
breath  of  the  crucified  One,  then  in  a  moment  aii 
was  over.  A  look  of  supreme  joy  and  triumph 
flashed  into  the  face  of  the  dying  Man.  "  It  is 
finished!"  He  cried.  A  last  low  prayer— 
"  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit!" 
and  with  a  great  cry  of  mortal  agony,  His  head 
fell  forward  on  His  breast.  He  was  dead. 

Then  followed  a  sound  of  crashing  and  grind- 
ing rocks,  as  the  earth  shook  with  wave  after 
wave  of  earthquake.  The  people  shrieked  aloud, 
and  prayed  wildly  in  a  frenzy  of  terror. 

"  We  are  undone!"  they  wailed;  and  they  rent 
their  garments  and  smote  upon  their  breasts. 

The  Roman  centurion,  also,  and  the  soldiers 
that  were  with  him,  trembled  with  fear. 
"  Truly,"  they  said,  "  this  was  the  Son  of  God!" 

Then  the  darkness  vanished  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  come;  the  sun  shone  out  gloriously,  and  the 
multitudes  returned  into  the  city,  still  wailing 
and  beating  upon  their  breasts.  They  remem- 
bered the  words  which  they  had  spoken:  "  His 
blood  be  upon  us,  and  upon  our  children." 


82 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


HOUGH  He  who  hung 
upon  the  middle  cross 
was  dead,  the  others 
who  were  crucified  with 
Him,  still  lived.  The 
younger  of  the  twain 
was  apparently  uncon- 
scious, for  his  head 
hung  forward  upon  his 
breast,  and  he  made 
neither  sign  nor  motion. 
But  the  other  rolled  his 
great  head  from  side  to 
side,  and  talked  wildly. 
"  Send  me  now  the 
High  Priest!"  he  cried. 
"  I  am  a  dying  man;  I  must  tell  him  of  some- 
thing before  I  go  hence." 

The  words  caught  the  ear  of  Malchus,  the  High 
Priest's  servant,  who  had  stood  near  the  crosses 
since  morning.  "  What  wouldst  thou  with  the 
High  Priest?"  he  asked.  "  I  am  his  servant." 

"  Give  me  to  drink,"  groaned  the  man,  "  for  1 
am  tormented  with  thirst." 

Malchus  dipped  the  sponge  into  the  wine,  and 
gave  it  to  the  miserable  wretch  once  and  again. 

"Where  is  the  High  Priest?"  he  repeated, 
huskily. 

"  He  hath  returned  to  the  city,"  answered  Mal- 
chus. "  Tell  me  what  thou  wouldst  say  to  him. 
I  am  his  trusted  servant;  I  will  bear  him  word." 
"  I  will  tell  thee — since  I  cannot  tell  him,  and 
the  time  is  short."  Here  he  paused  to  groan, 
then  went  on  with  a  visible  effort.  "  The  young 
man  on  the  further  cross  is  the  son  of  Caiaphas, 
the  High  Priest." 

"  Thief,  thou  liest!"  cried  Malchus,  starting 
back  in  horror. 

"  I  lie  not,"  replied  Dumachus.  "  I  am  a  dying 
man.  I  stole  him  with  his  nurse,  Prisca.  The 
girl  I  loved;  the  boy  I  took  to  avenge  myself  of 
a  scourging  at  the  hands  of  Caiaphas,  which  I 
deserved  not,  and  which  helped  make  me  the 
devil  that  I  am." 

When  Malchus  heard  the  name  Prisca,  be 
shook  with  fear.  "Where  is  the  woman?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  the  thief,  speaking 
with  difficulty.  "  She  was  in  Capernaum.  I 
have  a  son,  also,  Stephen  by  name;  I  know  not 
where  he  is.  But  swear  to  me  that  thou  wilt 
tell  Caiaphas!  He  will  remember  the  scourging 
—and  the  boy!"  And  the  man  ground  his  teeth. 
Malchus  now  ran  to  the  other  cross,  and  looked 
keenly  upon  the  face  of  him  who  hung  thereon; 
and  as  he  looked,  the  conviction  forced  itself 
upon  him  that  the  man  had  spoken  the  truth. 


He  reached  up  and  laid  his  hand  over  the 
heart  of  the  lad;  it  was  beating  still,  but  so 
faintly  that  he  could  scarcely  detect  the  pulsa- 
tions. "  He  is  almost  gone,  happily,"  he 
thought.  Then  the  words  which  the  Naz- 
arene  had  spoken  flashed  back  into  his  mind. 
"  He  is  near  Paradise — wherever  that  may  be!" 
he  murmured  with  a  heart-breaking  sigh  as  he 
turned  away. 

Calling  one  of  the  soldiers,  who  kept  guard,  he 
slipped  a  piece  of  gold  into  his  hand.  "  I  must 
have  the  body  of  this  young  man,  when  all  is 
over,"  he  whispered.  "  Manage  it  for  me,  an<I 
thou  shalt  have  thrice  as  much  again." 

The  man  nodded.  "  Where  dost  thou  want  it?" 
he  said. 

"  Here.  I  will  come  to  fetch  him  away.  Do  not 
let  them  take  him  down,  till  I  return." 

"  I  will  see  to  it,"  said  the  man,  looking  at 
the  coin  in  his  hand. 

Then  Malchus  sped  swiftly  away.  When  he 
reached  the  palace  he  went  straight  to  the  pri- 
vate apartment  of  his  master. 

Caiaphas  was  alone.  He  was  sitting  motion- 
less in  his  great  chair,  his  eyes  fixed  and  staring. 

"  Master!"  said  Malchus,  trembling  before  that 
terrible,  stony  face,  "  I  must  tell  thee  something 
—something  which  hath  to  do  with  thy  son/' 
And  he  cast  vainly  about  in  his  mind  for  a  mer- 
ciful way  of  telling  his  frightful  tidings. 

But  Caiaphas  did  not  answer;  he  seemed  not 
to  have  heard. 

"  I  have  found  thy  son!"  cried  Malchus,  draw- 
ing nearer  and  stooping  over  the  chair.  "  I  have 
found  thy  sou;  and  he  is  dying,  or  even  now 
dead." 

Caiaphas  stirred,  and  turned  his  eyes  slowly 
till  that  terrible,  unwinking  gaze  rested  on  the 
face  of  his  servant.  "  Thou  hast  found  my  son? 
My  son  is  dead!  What  is  it  that  thou  art  say- 
ing?" 

Then  did  Malchus,  in  his  desperation,  pour 
forth  the  whole  awful  story. 

Caiaphas  did  not  move.  "  He  is  crucified,  thou 
sayest,"— still  in  the  same  dull  tone — "  with  the 
Nazarene.  My  son,  and  the  Son  of  God!  Cru- 
cified together!" 

Then  a  frightful  change  came  over  his  aspect 
He  sprang  up,  his  eyes  flaming.  "Thou  liest!" 
he  shrieked.  "  Thou  art  trying  to  make  me 
afraid  for  what  I  have  done!  But  I  am  not 
afraid.  I  am  glad— glad!  Dost  thou  hear?  Get 
thee  away  out  of  my  presence,  and  never  dare 
to  enter  it  again!  Get  thee  away  or  I  kill  thee!" 
And  with  the  howl  of  a  demoniac,  he  rushed 
forward. 

But  Malchus  was  gone.  When  he  had  reached 
the  street,  he  sank  down  for  a  moment  on  the 
stones,  and  pressing  his  trembling  hands  to- 
gether, groaned  out:  "  My  God!  My  master! 


MTUS,  A  COMBADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


Help  him,  I  beseech  of  thee.  And  forgive,  if  it 
be  possible!" 

Then  he  arose,  and  went  swiftly  away  towards 
Calvary,  stopping  only  to  purchase  supplies  of 
fine  linen  and  spices*. 

As  he  turned  the  corner  of  a  narrow  street  ho 
met  two  men;  one  of  them  called  him  by  name. 
He  paused  for  an  instant  to  look,  .and  saw  that 
it  was  John,  the  follower  of  the  Nazarene. 

"  I  have  with  me  a  lad,"  said  John  under  his 
breath,  "  who  hath  a  woeful  errand  with  thy 
master.  He  knoweth  the  whereabouts  of  his 
son,  lost  so  long  ago.  I  was  bringing  him  to  the 
palace;  he  cannot  gain  admittance  alone." 

"  Hath  he  tried  before?"  asked  Malchus 
eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lad,  speaking  for  himself, 
"  many  times  yesterday." 

Malchus  groaned  aloud.  "  I  know  all  that  thou 
wouldst  tell  my  master,"  he  said.  "  But  it  will 
avail  nothing  to  see  him  now.  And  as  for  his 
mother— let  her  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  thing 
for  a  time.  She  hath  enough  to  bear."  And  he 
told  them  briefly  of  what  had  passed  between 
himself  and  Caiaphas. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  to  the  burial  of  my  young 
master,"  he  said,  in  conclusion.  "  "Tis  all  that 
I  can  do  for  him  now,  for  whom  I  would  have 
given  my  heart's  best  blood." 

"  I  love  him  too,"  said  Stephen  simply.  "  But 
I  am  glad  for  him;  for  he  hath  gone  to  a  better 
place  than  this— to  be  with  Him." 

Then  all  three  went  sadly  on,  till  they  came  to 
the  place  where  the  crosses  were. 

The  body  of  Jesus  was  being  taken  reverently 
down  from  the  cross,  as  they  approached,  a  num- 
ber of  persons  assisting,  among  whom  Malchus 
recognized  two  members  of  the  Sanhedrim, 
Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  Nicodemus. 

"  They  believe  on  Him  at  last,"  said  John 
sadly. 

"  They  have  long  believed  on  Him,  but  have 
not  dared  to  confess  it  openly,"  replied  Malchus; 
"  even  as  I,  myself,"  he  added  humbly. 

The  soldier  to  whom  he  had  given  the  coin, 
now  approached  him.  "  The  lad  is  dead,"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  and  the  other  also.  Wilt 
thou  that  we  help  thee?  We  must,  at  all  events, 
take  the  bodies  away— and  soon,  for  it  is  near 
sunset." 

"  Yes,  help  me.  Here  is  gold,"  said  Malchus 
huskily. 

And  so  it  was  that  as  the  sun  sank  behind  the 
horizon,  all  three  rested  in  the  peace  of  death- 
Jesus  in  the  new  tomb  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea, 
in  a  fair  garden  near  to  the  place  where  He 
died,  and  the  others  not  far  away.  For  Stephen 


had  besought  Malchus  with  tears,  that  the  body 
of  his  father  might  not  be  left  to  the  brutal 
hands  of  the  soldiers. 

As  they  went  away  in  the  twilight,  Malchus 
said  to  Stephen,  "Where  now  wilt  thou  go?" 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  the  boy  forlornly. 
"  There  is  no  one,  now,  to  whom  I  can  go;  anil 
no  place!"  and  he  sobbed  aloud. 

"  Thou  shalt  bide  with  me,"  said  Malchus 
warmly. 

But  John,  who  had  joined  them,  drew  the  lad 
to  his  side.  "  Wilt  thou  come  with  me?"  he  said. 
"  His  mother,  now  mine,  shall  be  thine  also;  and 
thou  shalt  be  my  brother." 

Stephen  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  disciple 
whom  Jesus  loved,  and  his  heart  went  out  to 
him;  and  he  was  comforted  in  his  sorrow. 

Then  they  went  away  into  Bethany  to  wait  till 
the  Sabbath  should  be  past. 


\ 


\ 


•Used  in  the  imperfect  embalmment  practiced  by  tbe 
Jews. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

T  was  the  solemn  hour  before 
the  dawn.  In  the  pallid,  un- 
certain light  of  the  waning 
moon,  a  solitary  woman 
'  hastened  along  the  road 
which  led  to  the  garden 
wherein  had  been  laid  the 
crucified  One.  It  was  Mary 
of  Magdala,  bearing  spices 
for  the  beloved  dead. 

Timidly  she  entered  the  en- 
closure, and  with  many  a 
tremulous  pause,  made  her 
way  through  the  thick  shrub- 
bery. It  was  very  dark,  and 
so  silent  that  she  could  al- 
most hear  the  beating  of 
her  heart.  Presently  she 
stopped  altogether  to  listen; 
then  was  the  stillness  broken 
by  a  sound  as  of  soft,  mys- 
terious rustling.  It  was  but  the  morning  breeze 
as  it  swept  through  the  branches;  but  she  fan- 
cied it  to  be  the  stirring  of  angelic  wings.  The 
breath  of  the  lilies  filled  the  place  with  sweet- 
ness, like  to  the  holy  atmosphere  of  heaven.  She 
stood  for  a  long  time  motionless,  hardly  daring 
to  breathe,  still  listening — listening. 

Suddenly  a  faint  beam  of  rosy  light  penetrated 
the  darkness,  and  high  above  burst  forth  the 
melodious  thanksgiving  of  the  lark. 

She  started  forward  with  a  little  cry.  Behold. 
the  stone  had  been  rolled  away  from  the  door 
of  the  sepulchre!  She  gave  one  frightened 


T1TVS,  A  COMRADE  OF  Ttifi  CfiOSS. 


glance   within,    then    turned   and    fled   toward 
Bethany. 
The  tomb  was  empty! 

"  Who  will  roll  away  the  stone  from  the  door 
of  the  tomb?" 

The  women  stopped  and  looked  at  one  another 
in  consternation.  There  were  four  of  them— 
Mary  the  mother  of  James,  the  wife  of  Clopas, 
Joanna,  and  Salome.  They  too  were  on  the  way 
to  the  sacred  garden  in  the  dim  light  of  early 
morning. 

"  It  is  certain  that  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
move  it  for  ourselves,  for  it  is  very  great,"  con- 
tinued Salome. 

"  But  will  not  the  disciples  be  also  at  the 
sepulchre?  Our  purpose  was  known  unto  them," 
said  Joanna.  "  Let  us  go  on,"  she  added.  "  I 
myself  am  very  strong." 

The  dawn  was  brightening  momently  now. 
Light  wreaths  of  snowy  mist  which  had  lain 
softly  on  the  bosom  of  the  fields  all  night  were 
flitting  away,  leaving  a  rain  of  sparkling  jewels 
behind  them.  Almond  trees,  just  bursting  into 
bloom,  showed  white  and  rosy-red  against  the 
tender  green  of  the  young  leaves.  Birds,  in  an 
ecstasy  of  song,  swung  joyously  upon  the  blos- 
soming sprays  or  flitted  athwart  the  glowing 
sky.  All  nature  was  in  the  great  secret  of  the 
heavens,  on  that  ever-to-be-remembered  morn- 
ing! 

But  nothing  of  the  triumphant  joy  of  the  new 
day  found  its  way.into  the  hearts  of  the  women. 
Mary,  indeed,  raised  her  eyes,  heavy  with  weep- 
ing, and  said  half  bitterly: 

"  How  can  the  birds— which  He  loved— sing, 
and  the  flowers  bloom,  when  He — "  And  her 
voice  broke  in  a  sob. 

The  others  were  silent.  With  bowed  heads 
they  hurried  forward,  blinded  with  their  tears. 

And  now  they  were  come  to  the  garden.  They 
entered  in,  threading  their  way  swiftly  through 
the  serried  ranks  of  lilies  and  blossoming  trees. 
And  drawing  near  to  the  tomb,  they  saw  that 
the  great  stone  had  been  rolled  away,  and  lay 
at  one  side  of  the  open  door. 

Timidly  they  entered  into  the  sepulchre,  then 
looked  at  one  another  in  sorrowful  amaze.  The 
niche  wherein  had  lain  the  body  of  Jesus  was 
empty.  Suddenly  they  perceived  sitting  on  the 
right  side  the  figure  of  a  young  man,  from  whose 
garments  there  streamed  forth  a  mysterious 
radiance,  which  lighted  all  the  gloomy  place 
wherein  they  were  standing.  And  the  angel  said 
unto  them: 

"  Fear  not;  for  I  know  that  ye  seek  Jesus, 
which  hath  been  crucified.  Why  seek  ye  the 
living  among  the  dead?  He  is  not  here;  He  is 
risen:  behold  the  place  where  they  laid  Him. 


But  go,  tell  His  disciples  and  Peter,  that  He 
goeth  before  you  into  Galilee;  there  shall  ye 
see  Him,  as  He  said  unto  you.  Remember  how 
He  spake  unto  you,  when  He  was  yet  in  Galilee, 
saying  that  the  Son  of  man  must  be  delivered 
up  into  the  hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  cruci- 
fied, and  the  third  day  rise  again." 
And  they  went  out  and  fled  from  the  tomb. 


"Woman,  why  weepest  thouf' 

trembling.    And  for  a  time  they  said  nothin? 
any  one;  for  they  were  afraid. 


to 


"  What  mean  these  strange  tidings,  thinkest 
thou?  Who  could  have  taken  away  His  body'.' 
Mayhap  His  enemies  who  murdered  Him.  Have 
they  not  done  enough,  that  they  must  needs  dis- 
turb Him  in  His  last  sleep!" 

"  Let  us  make  haste.  The  woman  may  have 
been  mistaken,"  answered  John.  "  She  is  crazed 
with  grief." 

Then  a  strange  thought— a  remembrance  of 
words  long  since  spoken,  and  oftentimes  re- 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


85 


peated— flashed  into  his  mind.  "  The  third  day!" 
he  murmured. 

Then  he  broke  into  a  run,  Peter  following;  and 
still  running,  he  came  to  the  garden  and  to  the 
tomb.  The  stone  was  rolled  away,  even  as  the 
woman  had  said,  and  stooping  down,  he  looked 
in  and  saw  the  linen  wrappings  which  had 
swathed  the  body.  While  he  looked  in  amaze, 
not  daring  to  enter,  Peter  also  approached,  and, 
seeing  the  open  door,  he  went  into  the  tomb  and 
beheld  the  linen  cerements,  folded  together,  and 
the  napkin  which  had  lain  upon  the  face  of  the 
dead,  rolled  up  in  a  place  by  itself. 

Then  did  John  also  come  into  the  tomb,  and 
there  the  mighty  truth  burst  upon  him. 

"  He  is  not  here.  He  is  risen!"  he  said  aloud— 
in  the  very  words  of  the  angel. 

But  Peter  was  sorrowfully  silent.  Then  the 
two  went  away  again  unto  their  own  home. 

Now  Mary  of  Magdala  had  followed  them  afar 
off,  weeping.  And  when  the  disciples  were  gone 
away,  she  came  alone  to  the  tomb  and  stood  at 
the  door.  "  And  as  she  wept,  she  stooped  and 
looked  into  the  tomb;  and  she  beheld  two  angels 
in  white  sitting,  one  at  the  head,  and  one  at  the 
feet,  where  the  body  of  Jesus  had  lain.  And 
they  said  unto  her,  '  Woman,  why  weepest  thoti? 
Whom  seekest  thou?'  She  said  unto  them,  '  Be- 
cause they  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I 
know  not  where  they  have  laid  Him.'  " 

Then  she  turned  herself  about,  and  saw, 
through  the  blinding  mist  of  her  tears,  the  figure 
of  a  Man  standing  near.  And  He  spake  unto 
her;  and  His  words  were  those  of  the  angels  who 
were  in  the  tomb: 

"  Woman,  why  weepest  thou?  WThom  seekest 
thou?" 

And  she  thought  within  herself:  "  This  man 
is  the  gardener.  Surely  he  can  tell  me."  Clasp- 
ing her  hands,  she  said  beseechingly: 

"  Sir,  if  thou  hast  borne  Him  hence,  tell  me 
where  thou  hast  laid  Him;  and  I  will  take  Him 
away." 

Jesus— for  it  was  He  that  had  spoken— said 
unto  her: 

"  Mary!" 

And  she  knew  His  voice.  In  an  ecstasy  of  joy 
she  cried,  "  Rabboni!"  and  would  have  laid  hold 
on  Him,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  her  sorrow- 
dazed  senses  were  not  deceiving  her. 

But  He  said  unto  her:  "  Lay  not  hold  on  me;* 
for  I  am  not  yet  ascended  unto  my  Father:  but 
go  to  my  brethren,  and  say  unto  them,  I  ascend 
unto  my  Father,  and  your  Father;  and  to  my 
God,  and  your  God."  And  He  passed  from  out 
her  sight. 


*Or,  "Do  not  seek  tokeepme  now."  Jes'is  be  f9re  His  death 
had  spoken  of  going  away  and  returniug  again  to  remnin. 
Apparently  Mary  now  expected  Him  to  remain  with  he;-. 


And  she  came  in  great  haste  and  joy,  and 
made  known  all  these  things  unto  the  disciples, 
saying:  "  I  have  seen  the  Lord!" 

"  Now,  behold,  two  of  them  went  that  same 
day  to  a  village  called  Emmaus,  which  was 
from  Jerusalem  about  threescore  furlongs.  And 
they  talked  together  of  all  these  things  which 
had  happened.  And  it  came  to  pass,  that,  while 
they  communed  together  and  reasoned,  Jesus 
Himself  drew  near,  and  went  with  them.  But 
their  eyes  were  holden,  that  they  should  not 
know  Him. 

"  And  He  said  unto  them,  '  What  manner  of 
communications  are  these  that  ye  have  one  with 
another,  as  ye  walk,  and  are  sad?' 

"  And  one  of  them,  whose  name  was  Cleopas, 
answering  said  unto  Him,  '  Art  thou  only  a 
stranger  in  Jerusalem,  and  hast  not  known  the 
things  which  are  come  to  pass  there  in  these 
days?' 

"  And  He  said  unto  them,  '  What  things?' 

"  And  they  answered  Him,  '  Concerning  Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  which  was  a  prophet  mighty  in 
deed  and  word  before  God  and  all  the  people; 
and  how  the  chief  priests  and  our  rulers  de- 
livered Him  to  be  condemned  to  death,  and  have 
crucified  Him.  But  we  trusted  that  it  had  been 
He  which  should  have  redeemed  Israel:  and  be- 
side all  this,  to-day  is  the  third  day  since  these 
things  were  done.  Yea,  and  certain  women  also 
of  our  company  made  us  astonished,  which  were 
early  at  the  sepulchre;  and  when  they  found  not 
His  body,  they  came,  saying,  that  they  had  also 
seen  a  vision  of  angels,  which  said  that  He  was 
alive.  And  certain  of  them  which  were  with  u:> 
went  to  the  sepulchre,  and  found  it  even  so  as 
the  women  had  said.  But  Him  they  saw  not.' 

"  Then  He  said  unto  them,  '  O  foolish  ones,  and 
slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets 
have  spoken.  Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered 
these  things,  and  to  enter  into  His  glory?' 

"  And  beginning  from  Moses  and  from  the 
prophets,  He  interpreted  to  them  in  all  the  Scrip- 
tures the  things  concerning  Himself. 

"  And  they  drew  nigh  unto  the  village  whither 
they  went;  and  He  made  as  though  He  would 
have  gone  further.  But  they  constrained  Him, 
saying:  'Abide  with  us;  for  it  is  toward  even- 
ing, and  the  day  is  far  spent.' 

"  And  He  went  in  to  tarry  with  them.  And  it 
came  to  pass,  when  He  had  sat  down  with  them 
to  meat,  He  took  the  bread,  and  blessed  it,  and 
brake,  and  gave  to  them.  And  their  eyes  were 
opened,  and  they  knew  Him;  and  He  vanished 
out  of  their  sight. 

"  And  they  said  one  to  another,  '  Did  not  our 
hearts  burn  within  us,  while  He  talked  with  us 
by  the  way,  and  while  He  opened  to  us  the 
Scriptures?' 


86 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS, 


"  And  they  rose  up  that  very  hour,  and  re- 
turned to  Jerusalem,  and  found  the  eleven  gath- 
ered together,  and  them  that  were  with  them, 
saying,  '  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed,  and  hath  ap- 
peared unto  Simon.' 

"  And  they  told  what  things  were  done  in  tho 
way,  and  how  He  was  known  of  them  in  the 
breaking  of  bread." 

And  while  they  were  talking  together  of  all 
that  had  happened,  some  of  them  as  yet  hardly 
daring  to  believe,  so  great  was  their  joy  and 
wonder,  Jesus  Himself  stood  in  the  midst  of 
them  and  said: 

"  Peace  be  unto  you!" 

But  they  were  terrified;  for  they  knew  that 
the  doors  were  shut,  and  they  thought  that  they 
beheld  a  spirit. 

And  He  said  unto  them,  "  Why  are  ye  trou- 
bled? And  why  do  thoughts  arise  in  your  hearts? 
Behold  my  hands  and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I  my- 
self: handle  me,  and  see;  for  a  spirit  hath  not 
flesh  and  bones,  as  ye  see  me  have." 

And  He  saw  their  faces  full  of  a  great  joy  in- 
deed, yet  mingled  with  fear.  He  knew  their 
hearts,  that  they  loved  Him,  yet,  being  in  the 
flesh,  the  mystery  of  His  resurrection  was  too 
great  for  them. 

Looking  at  them  with  a  love  unutterable  He 
said  gently,  "  Have  ye  here  any  meat?"— being 
minded  to  show  them  that  He  was  yet  their  own 
— not  removed  to  an  infinite  and  unapproachable 
distance,  but  the  very  Jesus  who  had  loved  them 
and  cared  for  them  and  died  for  them. 

And  with  trembling  and  great  joy  they 
brought  broiled  fish  and  a  piece  of  honeycomtn- 
their  own  homely  and  familiar  food  which  He 
had  shared  with  them  so  often.  And  He  did  eat 
before  them. 

Then  did  they  crowd  about  Him,  and  weep  out 
their  joy  at  His  feet.  And  He  talked  with  them 
a  long  time,  and  made  all  things  as  clear  as 
.  might  be  to  their  human  understanding. 

And  He  said  unto  them,  "  Thus  it  is  written, 
and  thus  it  behoved  Christ  to  suffer,  and  to  rise 
from  the  dead  the  third  day;  and  that  repent- 
ance and  forgiveness  of  sins  should  be  preached 
in  His  name  among  all  nations,  beginning  at 
Jerusalem.  And  ye  are  witnesses  of  these 
things." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus  was  sitting  motion- 
less at  the  window  of  her  chamber,  her  dark 
eyes  fixed  on  the  distant  horizon.  The  look  on 
her  face  was  that  of  one  who  had  suffered  be- 
yond the  limit  of  human  endurance,  and  to 


whom  had  come  some  heavenly  panacea.  Its 
peace  was  the  peace  of  heaven. 

As  she  sat  thus  musing  within  herself,  some 
one  entered  the  room  and  softly  approached.  It 
was  Stephen.  Kneeling  lightly  at  her  side,  he 
lifted  the  waxen  fingers  which  lay  idly  in  her 
lap,  and  pressed  them  to  his  lips. 

"  Mother  of  my  Jesus!"  he  said,  "  thou  knowest 
how  I  came  to  Jerusalem  that  I  might  search 
for  Titus — and  how  that  he  hath  entered  into 
Paradise,  where  he  shall  abide  for  evermore 
with  Him  whom  we  love.  Yet  his  mother  know- 
eth  not  where  he  is." 

Then  he  told  her  all  that  had  happened,  and 
how  Malchus  had  said,  "  Let  his  mother  remain 
in  ignorance  of  the  thing;  she  hath  enough  to 
bear." 

And  Mary  turned  the  solemn  radiance  of  her 
eyes  upon  him,  as  he  knelt  beside  her,  awaiting 
her  answer. 

"'She  must  no  longer  remain  in  ignorance,"  she 
said  at  length.  "  Thou  must  tell  her,  and  no 
other.  Go,  my  son."  And  she  rested  her  hand 
for  a  moment  on  his  bowed  head  in  silent  bless- 
ing. 

The  wife  of  Caiaphas  was  sitting  in  the  room 
which  looked  out  upon  the  terrace.  The  sun- 
shine flickered  on  the  wall  as  cheerily  as  of  yore, 
the  fountain  plashed,  the  birds  sang  joyously, 
and  the  odor  of  lilies  was  wafted  in  on  every 
passing  breeze.  Yet  was  the  face  of  the  lady 
sad;  her  work  had  slipped  from  her  idle  fingers; 
her  eyes  were  heavy  with  unshed  tears.  She 
looked  up  as  one  of  her  maidens  entered  and 
made  obeisance  before  her. 

"  What  wilt  thou,  Reba?"  she  said  wearily. 

"  Most  noble  lady,"  replied  the  maid,  "  there 
is  a  lad  waiting  in  the  court  of  the  household. 
He  would  see  thee  and  speak  with  thee.  I  told 
him  that  it  could  not  be;  but  he  was  importu- 
nate and  refused  to  go  away  until  he  had  seen 
thee." 

"  Thou  shouldst  not  have  told  him  that  it  could 
not  be,  until  thou  hadst  consulted  my  pleasure," 
said  Anna,  with  some  annoyance  evident  in  her 
voice.  "  Bring  the  lad  into  my  presence." 

The  maiden  bowed  humbly  and  went  away. 
Presently  she  returned. 

"  Here  is  the  lad,  most  noble  lady,"  she  said; 
then  obeying  a  motion  of  her  mistress'  hand,  she 
went  away,  leaving  the  two  alone. 

Stephen  regarded  the  lady  before  him  with 
awe.  The  mother  of  his  Titus!  How  should  he 
tell  her!  How  should  he  begin! 

Anna  saw  his  embarrassment;  her  heart  went 
out  toward  the  lad.  The  earnest  and  loving  re- 
gard in  his  eyes  stirred  her  strangely. 

"What  wilt  thou?"  she  said  very  gently,  with 
one  of  her  rare  smiles. 


TITUS,  A  COMBADE  OF  THE  CBOSS. 


87 


Stephen  knew  that  smile — it  was  the  smile  of 
Titus  himself!  Drawing  nearer,  he  said  in  a 
low  tone  which  trembled  with  the  depth  of  his 
feeling: 

"  Thou  art  the  mother  of  my  Titus.  I  am  come 
to  tell  thee  of  him.  He  is  no  longer  on  earth. 
He  is  in  Paradise." 

"  Nay,  I  know  not  what  thou  meanest,"  said 
Anna.  Yet  she  too  trembled.  "  Who  is  thy 
Titus?" 

"  He  is  thy  son.    His  name  was  David." 

And  when  the  mother  heard  that  name,  she 
gave  a  sharp  cry. 

"  Tell  me!"  she  gasped.    "  Tell  me  all." 

And  Stephen  in  his  own  simple  fashion  told 
her  all  the  short,  sad  story  of  Titus. 

"  Nay,  mother  of  my  Titus,  weep  not,"  he  said 
beseechingly,  when  he  had  finished.  "  For  is  it 
not  well  with  him?  Had  he  not  the  promise  of 
the  Master,  which  hath  never  failed?  Is  he  not 
safe?  Is  he  not  blessed— in  Paradise — " 

"  In  Paradise — yes,"  moaned  the  mother.  "  But 
I— I  am  on  earth.  And  I  know  not  whether  I 
shall  ever  be  with  him." 

"  Thou  shalt  be  with  him  one  day,  if  thou  dost 
believe  in  Jesus,  who  died  and  hath  risen  from 
the  dead,"  said  Stephen  solemnly. 

Anna  raised  her  head.  "  What  meanest 
thou?"  she  whispered. 

"  That  Jesus  hath  come  forth  from  the  tomb, 
where  they  laid  Him  cold  and  dead,  after  that 
He  was  crucified,"  said  Stephen  in  joyous  tri- 
umph. "  That  He  is  alive!  With  mine  own  eyes 
I  have  seen  Him,  and  I  have  heard  His  voice. 
And  if  He  liveth,  we  shall  live  also;  moreover  He 
hath  said  that  it  is  His  will  that  we  should  be 
with  Him  where  He  is.  Thou  shalt  see  thy  son 
again.  The  Father  is  merciful." 

Anna  made  no  reply.  She  arose,  and,  hastily 
wrapping  herself  in  a  mantle  and  veil  which  lay 
upon  the  divan  near  at  hand,  said  tremulously: 

"  I  must  see  the  mother  of  Jesus.  Take  me  to 
her." 

And  the  two  passed  out  into  the  street,  the 
haughty  lady  following  humbly  after  Stephen 
all  the  way  till  they,  reached  the  abode  of 
Mary. 

Then  came  they  into  the  place  where  Mary 
was;  and  when  the  mother  of  Titus  saw  her,  she 
gave  a  great  and  bitter  cry  and  fell  upon  her 
neck  weeping. 

Stephen  went  softly  away  and  left  the  two 
women  together. 

After  a  time  they  called  for  him,  and  he  came 
into  their  presence  trembling.  He  saw  the  face 
of  Anna,  that  it  shone  through  her  tears  with 
joy,  even  as  the  sun  sendeth  forth  its  strong 
beams  through  the  clouds  heavy  with  storm; 
and  his  heart  grew  light  in  his  bosom. 

"  Come  hither,  my  son,"  said  Mary  gently. 


And  he  drew  near,  and  the  mother  of  Titus 
gazed  upon  him  long  and  earnestly. 

"  Thou  wert  nearest  and  dearest  to  him  while 
he  was  upon  earth,"  she  said  at  length.  "  I 
would  that  thou  couldst  be  ever  with  me.  Yet 
that  may  not  be."  And  she  turned  to  Mary  with 
a  tender  smile.  "  I  would  not  take  thee  from 
her— yet  thou  must  be  a  son  to  me  also,  for  thou 
wert  his  brother."  And  rising,  she  drew  the  lad 
to  her  side  and  kissed  him  solemnly  upon  his 
forehead. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Stephen  found  yet  an- 
other friend — one  that  loved  him  all  the  days  of 
his  life.  For  full  of  triumph  and  joy  and  useful- 
ness as  was  his  life  upon  earth,  it  was  not  long. 
The  world  was  not  worthy  of  him;  and  God  took 
him  to  Himself  after  that  He  had  revealed  to 
him  His  glory  while  he  was  yet  in  the  flesh.* 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

"  If  I  could  but  see  Him  once  more  as  of  old!" 
said  Peter  longingly. 

He  was  walking  with  John  in  his  own  garden 
in  Capernaum,  and  certain  others  of  the  disci- 
ples were  sitting  on  the  wall  at  the  water's  edge, 
talking  in  low  tones.  They  had  come  into  Gali- 
lee according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord,  and  had 
gathered  together  a  multitude  of  the  disciples 
and  had  told  them  how  that  the  Lord  was  risen 
from  the  dead.  And  on  this  peaceful  evening  of 
early  summer  they  had  been  speaking  of  His 
mysterious  appearance  upon  the  mountain, 
where  He  was  seen  of  over  five  hundred  of  the 
disciples. 

"  Thou  wert  not  of  them  which  doubted  ?'' 
questioned  John  gravely. 

"  Nay,  I  doubted  not.  'Twould  ill  beseem  me— 
of  all  men — to  question  His  mercy.  But  " — and 
he  lowered  his  voice — "  thou  knowest  that  it  was 
like  a  vision  from  heaven.  And  there  were  so 
many  to  see.  If  only  I  could  speak  with  Him 
once  again  face  to  face,  and  know  that  He  hath 
forgiven  me  for  my  dastardly  cowardice!"  And1 
he  dashed  the  bright  drops  from  his  eyes. 

Suddealy  be  turned,  and,  looking  out  over  the 
placid  waters*  of  the  lake,  now  glowing  with 
the  thousand  shifting  tints  of  sunset,  he  ex- 
claimed with  something  of  his  old  energy:  "  I 
would  fain  go  fishing  to-night." 

John  looked  somewhat  surprised,  but  he  only 
said:  "  Wilt  thou  that  the  others  go  also?" 

"  Assuredly,"  answered  Peter.  "  Do  thoa 
speak  with  them.  I  will  put  the  boat  to  rights 
and  bring  the  nets." 

So  presently  they  all  set  forth,  amid  the  deep- 

»Acts7:55: 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


ening  shadows  of  evening,  just  as  they  used  to 
do.  And  as  the  boat  glided  gently  along,  float- 
ing, as  it  were,  between  two  heavens,  John 
looked  forth  over  the  mystic  glory  of  the  water 
as  it  reflected  in  its  bosom  the  radiant  sky,  and 
murmured:  "A  sea  of  glass  mingled  with 
fire!" 

And  they  toiled  all  the  night,  yet  caught  noth- 
ing. And  when  the  morning  was  come,  they 
made  for  the  land,  for  they  were  weary  and 
faint  after  the  long  night. 

And  as  they  drew  nigh  unto  the  shore  they 
beheld  standing  upon  the  water's  edge  the  figure 
of  a  Man,  seen  but  dimly  through  the  morning 
mist. 

And  He  called  to  them  and  said:  "  Children, 
have  ye  any  meat?" 

And  they  answered  Him:    "  No." 

And  He  said:  "  Cast  the  net  on  the  right  side 
of  the  ship,  and  ye  shall  find." 

And  they  did  as  they  were  bidden;  for  they 
thought  that  He  might  have  seen  that  look  on 
the  surface  of  the  water  which  showeth  to  one 
skilled  in  such  things  the  presence  of  fish.  And 
having  cast  the  net,  they  were  now  not  able  to 
drag  it  for  the  multitude  of  the  fishes. 

Then  did  John,  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved, 
stand  up  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  gaze  long 
and  earnestly  upon  the  Man  who  stood  upon  the 
shore;  and  he  knew  Him,  and  cried  out  with 
joy: 

"It  is  the  Lord!" 

And  when  Peter  heard  that  it  was  the  Lord,  he 
girt  his  fisher's  coat  about  him  and,  leaping  into 
the  water,  swam  ashore,  and  fell  at  the  feet  of 
the  Master  whom  he  had  denied. 

Now  the  other  disciples,  dragging  the  net  full 
of  fishes,  came  also  to  the -shore;  and  they  saw 
a  fire  of  coals  burning,  and  fish  broiling  thereon, 
and  bread,  just  as  of  yore. 

And  their  hearts  were  full  as  they  gazed  upon 
their  risen  Lord,  and  thought  that  even  in  His 
glory  He  remembered  that  they  were  hungry 
and  must  eat. 

"  And  Jesus  said  unto  them,  '  Bring  of  the  fish 
which  ye  have  now  caught.' 

"  Peter  went  and  drew  the  net  to  land  full  of 
great  fishes,  an  hundred  and  fifty  and  three;  and 
for  all  there  were  so  many,  yet  was  not  the  net 
broken." 

Then  said  Jesus  unto  them:  "  Come,  and  break 
your  fast." 

And  He  Himself  took  of  the  fish,  and  gave  to 
them:  and  also  of  the  bread.  And  they  ate  and 
were  satisfied. 

After  that  they  had  eaten.  Jesus  fixed  His  eyes 
upon  Peter  and  said  to  him:  "  Simon,  son  of 
John,  dost  thou  love  me  more  than  these?" 

And    Peter,  an'swered    eagerly:    "  Yea,    Lord; 
knowest  that  I  love  tliee." 


"  Feed  my  lambs,"  said  the  Master  solemnly. 

Then  He  asked  him  a  second  time:  "  Simon, 
son  of  John,  dost  thou  love  me?" 

And  again  Peter  made  answer:  "  Yea,  Lord; 
thou  kuowest  that  I  love  thee." 

And  Jesus  said  unto  him  solemnly  as  before: 
"  Tend  my  sheep." 

Then  said  He  the  third  time:  "  Simon,  son  of 
John,  dost  thou  love  me?" 

Peter  was  grieved  when  He  said  unto  him  the 
third  time,  "  Dost  thou  love  me?"  Yet  in  his 
heart  he  knew  the  meaning  of  it  all;  had  he  not 
thrice  denied,  and  was  it  not  meet  that  he 
should  thrice  confess? 

He  fell  on  his  knees  before  Jesus,  and  with 
tears  cried  out:  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things; 
thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee." 

Jesus  looked  upon  him  with  a  deep  tenderness 
in  His  eyes,  so  that  the  heart  of  Peter  was  satis- 
fied. He  knew  that  he  was  forgiven. 

And  again  He  said  unto  him:  "  Feed  my 
sheep." 

Then  after  a  little  silence  He  added:  "  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  when  thou  wast  young, 
thou  girdedst  thyself,  and  walkedst  whither  thou 
wouldest:  but  when  thou  shalt  be  old,  thou  shalt 
stretch  forth  thine  hands,  and  another  shall  gird 
thee  and  carry  thee  whither  thou  wouldest  not." 

And  many  years  afterward,  when  the  enemies 
of  Christ  bound  Peter  and  bore  him  away  to  a 
martyr's  death,  these  words  were  fulfilled.  Yet 
was  he  triumphant  unto  the  end  through  the 
love  of  his  Lord  and  Master. 


Not  many  days  after  this,  the  disciples  went 
back  to  Jerusalem,  according  to  the  word  of 
Jesus,  that  they  might  tarry  there  till  the  prom- 
ise of  the  Father  should  be  fulfilled.*  And  Jesus 
met  them  there,  and  again  talked  with  them; 
and  they  asked  Him:  "  Lord,  dost  thou  at  this 
time  restore  the  kingdom  to  Israel?" 

And  He  said  to  them:  "  It  is  not  for  you  to 
know  times  or  seasons,  which  the  Father  hath 
set  within  His  own  authority.  But  ye  shall  re- 
ceive power  when  the  Holy  Spirit  is  come  upon 
you:  and  ye  shall  be  my  witnesses,  both  in 
Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and 
unto  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  Go  ye 
therefore,  and  make  disciples  of  all  the  nations, 
baptizing  them  into  the  name  of  the  Father,  and 
of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost:  teaching 
them  to  observe  all  things  whatsoever  I  have 
commanded  you:  and  lo,  I  am  with  you  alway. 
even  unto  the  end  of  the  world." 

"  And  He  led  them  out  until  they  were  over 
against  Bethany:  and  He  lifted  up  His  hands, 
and  blessed  them.  And  it  came  to  pass,  while 


*Acts  1:  4,5, 


TITUS,  A  COMRADE  OF  THE  CROSS. 


He  blessed  them.  He  parted  from  them,  and  a 
cloud  received  Him  out  of  their  sight.  And 
while  they  were  looking  steadfastly  into  heaven 
as  He  went,  behold,  two  men  stood  by  them  in 
white  apparel ;  and  they  said,  '  Ye  men  of  Gali- 
lee, why  stand  ye  looking  unto  heaven?  This 
Jesus,  which  was  received  up  from  you  into 
heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye  be- 
held Him  going  into  heaven.'  " 

And  they  returned  into  Jerusalem  with  exceed- 
ing great  joy,  and  were  continually  in  the  Tem- 
ple, praising  and  blessing  God.  And  most  of  all 
did  they  rejoice  in  the  word  which  He  spake 
unto  them:  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even 
unto  the  end  of  the  world." 

And  He  is  with  us  to-day;  for  "  He  inhabiteth 
eternity."  "  He  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  forever,"— not  a  far-away  Jesus  in  some  re- 
mote and  inaccessible  glory,  but  a  Jesus  ever 
present,  ever  loving,  who  would  do  for  each  one 
of  us  what  He  did  for  His  disciples  in  those  days 
of  yore. 


At  this  moment  He  is  standing  by  thy  side; 
wilt  thou  not  fall  at  His  feet  as  did  Peter  and 
cry  out,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things;  thou 
knowest  that  I  love  thee!"  Then  will  He  lift 
thee  at  once  from  all  thy  weakness  and  sin;  and 
thou  shalt  triumph  gloriously  through  the  power 
of  His  love. 

And  so  at  last  we  too,  like  Titus,  shall  one  day 
be  with  Him  in  Paradise;  and  there  "  we  shall 
be  like  Him;  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is." 

God  grant  that  every  one  of  us  shall  be  num- 
bered with  that  exceeding  great  multitude  who 
shall  stand  before  the  throne,  and  before  the 
Lamb,  crying,  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain!" 

"  For  they  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more;  neither  shall  the  sun  light  on  them, 
nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them,  and  shall 
lead  them  unto  fountains  of  living  waters.  And 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes." 


T1TVS,  A  VOMKADti  OJb   THE  CROSS. 


APPENDIX. 


To  the  readers  of  "  Titus,"  I  would  say  a  word 
in  regard  to  the  book.  Its  purpose  will,  I  hope, 
be  evident  to  all.  It  is  to  present  the  life  of 
Jesus  upon  earth  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  a 
fresh  interest  to  the  "old,  old  story";  to  bring 
the  Jesus  of  nearly  nineteen  centuries  ago  into 
our  lives  to-day— a  real,  a  living  Jesus,  as  ten- 
der, as  loving,  as  thoughtful  of  His  children 
who  are  upon  earth  now,  as  He  was  with  the 
dwellers  in  Palestine. 

In  writing  the  story  I  have  consulted  many 
books  on  the  subject  by  other  authors,  among 
which  I  would  mention,  as  having  been  es- 
pecially useful  to  me,  "  The  Life  and  Words  of 
Christ,"  by  Dr.  Geikie;  also  works  by  Eder- 
sheim,  Stalker,  Farrar,  Hanna,  Beecher,  and 
other-?,"  if  well  as  numerous  Commentaries  and 
Harmonies,  together  with  Smith's  Bible  Diction- 
ary— a  host  in  itself;  and  leading  books  of 
travel  in  the  Orient. 

I  found  that  tradition  has  handed  down  three 
groups  of  names  for  the  thieves  who  were  cru- 
cified with  the  Savior;  Dysmas,  or  Demas,  for 
the  penitent  thief  and  Gestas  for  the  impeni- 
tent, being  the  most  generally  accepted.  A 
second  tradition  gives  Titus  for  the  penitent 


and  Dumachus  for  the  impenitent  thief.  These 
names  I  chose  for  the  characters  in  my  book, 
for  they  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  most  fitting. 
Other  traditional  names  were  Matha  and  Joca. 
It  will  be  noticed  that  I  used  the  names  Gestas 
and  Joca  for  certain  of  the  robber  band  who 
were  associated  with  Dumachus;  it  having 
occurred  to  me  that  the  possible  reason  for  the 
number  of  traditional  names  lay  in  the  exist- 
ence of  just  such  a  predatory  band  as  I  have  de- 
scribed in  my  story. 

In  quoting  the  words  of  Christ  throughout  the 
story,  as  well  as  in  the  description  of  certain 
scenes,  I  have  harmonized  the  words  given  us 
in  the  different  Gospels.  I  have  also  used  the 
Revised  Version  of  the  New  Testament,  as  well 
as  the  Authorized  Version,  and  in  some  cases 
have  gone  back  to  the  original  Greek,  that  there 
might  be  the  greatest  possible  clearness  and 
completeness  of  the  narrative. 

My  prayer  for  this  book  is  that  it  may  go  or" 
into  the  world  and  preach  the  Gospel  of  Jes>'"~ 

And  so  farewell. 

FLORENCE  MORSE  KINGSLEY, 
West  New  Brighton,  Staten  Island,  N.  Y. 

October  26,  1894. 


I 


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